Supernatural S1E03 BLACK DOG
by Kate Sienna Zoe
Summary: Third episode. Sam and Dean get into a fight about finding their father and go separate ways. A clue from John leads one of them into so much trouble that he'll need his brother to get out. The clue leads him to face hell, but to Zo as well.
1. Chapter 1

BLACK DOG

_Whitehorse Mountain, Washington_  
_One week ago_

"C'mon, David!"  
Two hikers find their way through the forest of the Whitehorse Mountain, several miles outside the town of Darlington. Evergreens rise up high above them, reaching out for the clouds. A girl, probably about sixteen walks up front, closely followed by her father. A bit further behind her older brother halts as he looks over his shoulder. Behind him, in the valley where there is no snow, Darlington lies, protected by the mountains surrounding the small place. The shadows of the mountain they are climbing right now lays out a blanket of darkness. Across from the valley the top of North Mountain is covered in snow, it's an amazing sight.  
"Hey Dreamy, hurry it up! At least if we wanna get over the Lone Tree Pass before dark", his young and enthusiastic sister pushes.  
"How much sugar did you eat, Ruth?", her brother teases her, after which he follows.  
"We'll set up camp at 4973' and continue along the ridge east. After about a half a mile the real fun is gonna start", their Dad informs, looking at a detailed map while walking.  
"I can't wait to see the view from the summit!", Ruth cries out, eager for their goal.  
Jim observes his daughter and smiles. The three of them share a passion for hiking and they go out to tame mountains a lot, especially after his wife passed away two years ago. It was a shock to all of them, but they got through it, as a family. It's during moments like these that he realizes how lucky he is, still being able to spend time with his daughter and son.  
"Slomo", she calls out with teasing voice.  
"Would you stop calling me that?", he laughs.  
"It's the truth. But I'll tell you what. I won't call you names anymore if you make it to camp first", she dares.  
She turns around and walks further backwards, challenging David. He grins and starts running up the mountain.  
"You're on!", he accepts.

He passes his father, who shakes his head with a grin on his face. Kids, it doesn't matter what age those two are, they will always compete with each other.  
"Don't go too far", he warns as any parent should do.  
"You'll never catch me!", she shouts back.  
"Watch me!", David answers smartly.  
He runs after her, struggling to get through the thick layer of snow. He can hear his little sister laugh in the distance, sometimes she appears between the tall trees in the black and white surreal world. He catches up on her though, but just as he's about to pass her, they reach the rocky pass of Lone Tree. Unstoppable Ruth starts her climb as she slams her axe in the solid ground. Trained and well skilled she overcomes the pass, tailed by her brother. She takes the lead again and halts on the open spot.  
"Slomo!", she calls him, heaving her first into the air victoriously.  
"Yeah yeah, you win", David shakes his head as he drops his backpack down in the snow.  
Out of breath David takes a moment to enjoy the view. Ruth, who has been running all this time and was to busy to beat her brother, looks aside and is a witnesses of the most beautiful views she has ever seen. Mountains as far as the eye can reach, down below lies an untouched valley. Trees don't even seem to be individual trees anymore. The rocks, the snow, the nature, it all seems to be one, a beautiful mixture of the world's most outstanding creations. In the east The Four Fingers rise up from it's foundations as the setting sun shimmers an orange glow on the snowy slopes on the west side. The siblings can only stare at the pure beauty of the earth.  
"Wow…", Ruth stammers.  
"You can say that again", David admits.

Ruth sits down in the cold snow and breaths in the fresh air. She would love her Mom to see this. She looks up at the pass, but there's no sign of her Dad what so ever.  
"Hey Dad, you alright on that side?", she shouts loud, after which her voice echoes through the mountains.  
"He's getting old", David jokes.  
Then a strange and unusual sound reverberates through the mountaintops. A haul, but nothing like they've ever heard before.  
"Is that a grey wolf?", Ruth asks surprised.  
"I don't know, I heard grey wolfs before, but this sounds different", David ponders, as he stares up at the pass.  
Then they hear it again, much closer this time, or is it just the echo through the mountains that causes that illusion? A bad feeling starts to evolve in David's stomach, something's off.  
"You stay here, I'm gonna check on Dad, okay?", he looks over at Ruth before he grabs his axe and climbs to the other side of the pass. The Lone Tree is easily overcome and he descents down the mountain.  
"Dad?", he shouts.  
But the forest stays remarkably silent. Too silent, unnaturally silent. It's just now that David realize that they don't hear the birds and other animals that live in these woods. The trees don't even whisper, the mountain is dead. Carefully David shuffles through the snow, which is perfectly white, until he stumbles on a odd color in this black and white landscape. It's red, blood red. Slowly David's gaze looks further ahead, too afraid what he's gonna see. This could as well be an animal pray, a deer maybe. But he knows it isn't, and when his gaze reaches the end of the blood trail, that thought is confirmed. Under a tree, lays his father, torn into pieces. Stammered and frightened he falls back into the snow and crawls back until he can't go any further. Then he hears a horrific scream, coming from over the pass; it's his sister. Stunned he stares up the mountain and cries out her name.  
"RUTH!"


	2. Chapter 2

Waco, Texas  
Present Day

It's early morning in sunny Texas as a black Chevrolet Impala shoots down the 35 highway, just outside the city of Waco. The temperatures are still cool at this hour, but the orange sun that's rising in the East will change that within hours. Never the less, Dean has his window rolled down and joins Axl Rose on the vocals. His brother Sam, who had his eyes closed a minute ago, opens them annoyed and glares at his brother. He's not sure what's more surprising, Dean's unbelievably good mood or the fact that he's able to hit the high notes.  
"_Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place, where as a child I'd hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by. Oh wow, Sweet child 'o mine_",Dean sings as he drums on the wheel.  
"Dude, I'm trying to sleep", Sam complains.  
While rolling his eyes he looks aside, why does Sam always have to be such a party pooper. Instead of working with him, Dean lets go of the wheel and plays the solo on his air guitar. Startled Sam grabs the wheel to keep the car steady and gives him a mad look. As Sam does that, Dean presses the volume button a couple of times and sings along again.  
"_Whooo yeah, sweet child o' mine!_", he cries out.  
"Seriously", the youngest of the two glares at the driver.  
"Ah come on, Sammy. Why can't a guy have a little fun?", Dean pouts dramatically.  
"Well for one, because it's way to early in the morning", Sam starts.  
"So? Since when do you care about getting up early? This way we have the whole day ahead, you know. Make some use of it", Dean quickly makes up.  
Sam lifts one eyebrow and glares at him sideways. Did he actually just say that? Dean and getting up early; he doesn't know that much about his brother, but that's no match.

"That's the best you could come up with?", he asks confronting.  
Right at that moment, AC/DC's _Stiff Upper Lip_ starts playing on the radio channel and Dean can't help but to shout out a 'woohoow!' when he recognizes the first tunes.  
"Man, I love this song!", he states joyfully.  
Sam shakes his head annoyed. All that his brother is doing is avoiding the damn conversation.  
"And Erin didn't mind at all?", he tests.  
Dean looks aside, thinking of the gorgeous brunette he picked up at a bar a couple of days ago.  
"Not sure, she was still asleep when I left", he admits.  
"That's just mean", Sam clearly has his opinion ready.  
"It's not my style to hang around too long, you know that", Dean defends.  
"But why the hell are you in a hurry? We don't have a lead on Dad, we don't have a lead on any case at all, yet you go off running immediately", Sam notifies.  
Dean shrugs and ignores him, as he mouths the lyrics of the song.  
"Dean!", Sam shouts, trying to draw his brother's attention.  
"What? I'm gonna drive the car up to Hillsboro for a fix and we'll go from there", Dean answers bored.  
"That's not the reason, Dean. And you know it", Sam states, a little bit victoriously.

"You're seeing things that aren't there, know that?", Dean lays one hand on the wheel and smiles.  
"Funny though, apparently you know that I'm talking about Zoë, without me mentioning her", the youngest bounces back.  
"Actually, I didn't. You are the one who just drawled that conclusion from my words", his brother turns around with sparkling eyes.  
Puzzled Sam looks away as he replays that moment in his head. Damn, he's right. Nevertheless, he doesn't let that get him down and recovers fast.  
"Yet you can't deny that you're driving up north", he says.  
"North is a lot of square miles in this country, Sam. How on earth are you planning to find her?", Dean huffs.  
"I don't know, man…", Sam stares up the road ahead pondering, but than looks aside. "But you did think of it then".  
Dean sighs. "Okay, so I did. But you are the one who keeps calling her every day. No wonder she doesn't pick up, she probably thinks you're her personal stalker or something".  
"I for God hope that's the reason", Sam prays.  
"Why would you think she's dead?", Dean wants to know.  
"I dunno, just the way she took off. Like she was not expecting to see us again", Sam says serious.  
"You mean that she was nice?", the eldest sarcastically states.  
"You could say that", Sam realizes.  
"It doesn't matter, we'd be searching for a needle in a very big haystack. For now…", he turns on his blinker and exits the highway. "… I'm gonna patch this baby up".

Ten minutes later they pull overon526 West Elm Street in Hillsboro. It's a quite lane on the outer side of the city, on which a little garage called _Ronny's Garage and Wrecker Services_. It's not a big place, just a shed, from which the Stars and Stripes flags flutter playfully. Two big Chevrolet trucks are parked in front of the dry lawn. On the other side of the small home next to the shed, a gas station is located. Dean turns off the engine and gets out of the car. A well build man with big whiskers walks out of the shed into the sun, whipping his hands clean with a dirty cloth. The eldest of the two Winchester brothers walks up the driveway and approaches him.  
"You must be Ronny", Dean presumes.  
"That's me", the mechanic answers. "That your ride?"  
"Yep, that's my baby", Dean confirms proudly.  
The guy nods approving as he watches Sam get out. Then he puts the cloth away in his pocket.  
"It's a nice one, 67 is a good year", Ronny definitely knows cars.  
"Sure is, but the thing is…", Dean nods at the rear end. "Someone tried to break in and messed up her tail".  
As the mechanic and Dean take a look at the Impala, Sam wonders off to take a look around. As it gets warmer, the dry period this summer is taking its toll. The lawns look like the are about to go up in flames, but then again no one took the effort to water the yards. The houses seem neglected, paint is coming off the wooden frames and weeds are growing through the tiles. It's certainly not the most wealthy area of Hillsboro. With a sigh he takes out his phone as he strolls away from the garage. He scrolls trough the list of last outgoing calls, which repeats Zoë over and over again. Dean's right, he is stalking her. Despite that thought, he presses the green button and puts the Blackberry against his ear.

"This is the voicemail of Zoë Sullivan. You can leave a message after the…"  
Annoyed Sam hangs up and walks on. As he enters the small shop by the gas station, a bell rings. An overweight woman behind the counter looks up and greets him politely. He gives he an awkward nod and takes a few candy bars from the selves. So much for breakfast, but at least this will save them from starvation.  
"That will be $ 3,60, sir", the lady informs while she puts the bars in a plastic bag.  
He passes her a five dollar bill and takes the bagand his change. As she wishes him a nice day, he leaves. The sun almost blinds him, still hanging low, but shining brightly already. He squints and starts walking back to the garage, as his phone rings. A bit startled he hastily takes out his phone, hoping it's Zoë, but the caller is named to be unidentified on the display. While wondering who it could be, he answers.  
"Hello?"  
"Is this Sam Winchester?", a feminine voice asks.  
A bit stunned Sam looks back at his display to make sure it isn't Zoë, but it says differently. He's quite sure the person who's calling him isn't her, the tone in her voice is different, nice for instance. Sam digs deep down his memory, but it's probably no one he knows.  
"Yes, who is this?", he asks, still conscious.  
"Let's just say we're in the same boat. I have some information for you".  
Whoever she is, she got his attention. Sam tries to sound not too curious in his respond.  
"What kind of information?", he asks slowly.  
A short silence follows before the girl on the other side answers, but when she does, it is as if Sam is struck by lightning.  
"I know where your father is".


	3. Chapter 3

In the meantime Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result.  
Ronny nods satisfied. "Good as new".  
He has carefully beaten out the dent and restored the paintjob with some cleaner. After he bended a few pins in the lock, it closed perfectly.  
"Thanks, man", he passes the mechanic some paper money.  
"No problem. Have a good day", Ronny states, glad with the extra tip.  
He retreats back into his garage as Dean glances as his trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. Surely Dean knows all about how to repair his ride himself, but he didn't have the right tools on him to fix the lock. He's glad he got it done though, the ticking sound every time they hit a bump was driving him crazy and leaving it open enough armory for a military operation in the wasn't very comforting either. It bothered him to leave his baby in the hands of another person, but the two Chevrolets in front of the garage and Robby's gentle way of handling her made him feel a whole lot better. He takes a look around in the abandoned street as he realizes that it's awfully quiet; where the hell is Sam? He searches the area and spots him a bit further down the street. He's on the phone. Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns up the coolness of the night. In these circumstances, he doesn't mind waiting. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thought wonder off. He doesn't like it one bit, but he can not help but to think about Zo. He might pretend that he doesn't give a damn, but in reality he kind of does if he's honest with himself. Not that he likes her or anything, hell no! But Sullivan left an impression behind on the boys. She has been through more in the twenty-four years that she walks this earth than most humans do in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he cares; he can relate. He sighs, it would be strange if Sam's presumption is actually true. Zoë Sullivan dead, he just can't see it happen. She caught him off guard, he, Dean Winchester! She even shot him for God's sake. Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to know a lot about the supernatural world. She's a bright girl, well trained, fast, not afraid; she has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But that last conversation back in Paragould left the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she doesn't expect to win. An uncomfortable question pops up in his head; Did he make a mistake for not going after her? The two guys they saved in Waco probably don't think so. Dean stares ahead and ponders on. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. The north is a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson isn't something you see everyday. If they make a few calls and ask some questions, they might be able to find her. Then he feels his phone vibrating. For a moment there he was so lost in his thoughts that the buzzing cell phone startles him, but then he quickly takes it out and notices the small icon of an envelop in the right upper corner; he received a text message. It's probably Erin who woke up without him next to her, she must be wondering where he's at. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen. At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says 'Dad'. As his heart starts pounding faster he opens the message, completely stunned by the unexpected sign of life.

_Job: 48°13'11.00"N 121°41'4045"W_

Dean huffs. Typical Dad, he disappears from the face of the earth and after all this time all Dean gets is one word and some coordinates. He laughs relieved, what the hell does it matter, he's alright! Exited and thrilled at the same time he turns to Sam, who hastens towards him.  
"We've gotta go", they both say at the same time.  
"Me first", Dean demands childish.  
"What are you, seven?", Sam comments with an attitude, but can't help to battle him on that. "What I've just heard is bigger".  
"Bigger than this?", Dean hands him his phone victoriously.  
Surprised Sam takes his phone. He attentively reads the message and looks up with an irritated look upon his face.  
"That's it?", he chuckles pissed. "After months of silence this is what he gives us?"  
"Sam, don't you realize what this means? He's okay! Don't be a bitch about this", Dean brings to mind.  
"Just because he's able to send us a text message, doesn't mean that he's okay, Dean. We're not even sure it's him", Sam returns bitter.  
"Oh come on. This is so Dad. He left us one word and some coordinates, this is even more convincing than his signature", the eldest fights.  
"And what the hell are we suppose to do with this? Trust him blindly and go do a job he can't find the time for because he's haunting that big ass demon?", Sam concludes annoyed.  
"Exactly", Dean states. "Don't you see, Sam? This is what I've been telling you. He doesn't want to be found, he wants us to hunt".  
Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown leather notebook; it's John's journal.  
"This book. This is dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He's passed it on to us", Dean looks deep down his brothers eyes while he points at the book. "Dad's journal, the message, it all indicates to one thing and one thing only, Sammy. He wants us to do our job, he wants us to do what we were trained for".  
"You know what _I_ want? I want to find Dad", Sam stays determined.  
"Oh yeah? And how the hell are you planning to do that?", Dean asks smartly.  
"I don't need a plan, I already knows where he is", the youngest states exultant.  
Puzzled Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. For months they couldn't find the man and now Sam suddenly figured out where he's at? Not likely, something's up.

"I just received a call. He's in Tennessee, in Nashville to be precise", Sam finishes.  
"How do you know that?", Dean asks unimpressed.  
"Like I said, I received a call", Sam makes sure he doesn't give away too much information.  
"From who?", the eldest pressures as frustration starts to build.  
"I think she might be a hunter or something", his brother cries out annoyed.  
"She? Does this mysterious lady have a name?", Dean interrogates with exaggerated gestures, trying to get some information out of Sam.  
"She didn't give it, but it doesn't matter. We're going to Tennessee", Sam decides.  
Dean laughs out loud, turns away and looks at Sam as if he's making a joke.  
"You wanna go based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a damn trap, Sam!", Dean shouts indignant.  
"I don't care. If he's there, I'm going!", Sam also raises his voice to overrule his brother.  
Now Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to glare down the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn't stop him to show Sam who's boss.  
"He's given us an order", he states slow, but stern.  
"I, don't, care", Sam says back with firm voice.  
"Well I do, dumbass!", Dean replies. "What you are planning to do is dangerous! Dad doesn't want you on his tail, Sam! You'll mess up his cover!"  
"You're calling me a dumbass? Dad is after a incredibly powerful demon by himself, alone! He's the dumbass for not accepting our help. We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I'm not going to lose him too. I want some answers right now and if Dad doesn't want me there, that's his problem!", Sam shouts angry.  
"You're going against him? Oh right, I forgot. That's what you always do; exactly the opposite of what he asks you to do", Dean says sarcastically.  
"He doesn't ask, he orders", Sam corrects.

"It doesn't matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He's our GOD DAMN father!", the eldest shouts loudly.  
"Well, I'm not buying", Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest, trying to making his point.  
For a moment Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to consider that. His piercing green eyes stare straight up his brother's, but he doesn't even blink. There gazes battle, but surprisingly it's Dean who gives in first.  
"Fine", he ends it and gets out of Sam's sight.  
Furious and boiling of anger he walks around the car and gets behind the wheel. Sam watches him and doesn't move a muscle, yet he can't help to ask what he's planning to go.  
"Where are you going?", Sam questions grinding.  
"To wherever those coordinates take me to", Dean says clear as he looks up at his brother through the windshield. "I'm gonna give you a choice. You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go screw yourself".  
Sam gulps, but remains on his place. His facial expression doesn't change as he walks over to the trunk and grabs a duffel bag, which he fills with the things he expects to need. He also grabs his laptop from the back seat and  
steps back. The glare Dean receives from him says enough; he's not coming along for the ride. Stunned Dean stares at him. Unbelievable, he knows that Sam can be a stubborn son of a bitch, but this beats it all. Dean huffs and shakes his head. This is the second time Sam is leaving, but yet there's nothing he can do to stop him. He's not alright with what he's about to do, but he can't give in. He has to listen to his father.  
"Goodbye Sam", he sighs.  
Without answering Sam's cold gaze keeps looking at Dean, then the eldest starts his engine and takes off. Frustrated Dean clamps his left hand around the wheel as he grinds. He doesn't drive off as fast as he normally does. As she fights with himself he glances in his back mirror.  
"Come on, Sam. Move", he sighs hopeless.  
But Sam doesn't move, he remains on his place. Then he does, but not in the way Dean hoped. Sam turns around and heads towards downtown Hillsboro. With a deep breath Dean shakes his head.  
"Stubborn bastard", he whispers.  
West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn't notice the scenery, his conscious is fighting his heart. He wants to turn around so badly, but he has do as his father tells him. He has never done anything else than that, he never disobeyed him. But this one line his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him.  
"Take care of Sammy", he quotes absent.  
It doesn't matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Why isn't it all black and white, why does there have to be this huge gray area? Dean might not be sure of himself, but he made his decision. He's going to track down those coordinates and he's going to do the job his Dad gave him. He knows what he's doing, he's just hoping Sam does too.


	4. Chapter 4

Darrington, Washington  
Present Day

Two days later Dean and his Impala drive through a deep valley high up north. Mountains rise from the earth as if they are still growing, overshadowing the village beneath. The sun is hiding behind the clouds and it's not nearly as warm as it was in down south Texas, in fact, Dean has the heaters on. The radio started jamming some time ago. Not because of the presence of ghost or something else supernatural, but simply because the high mountains are interfering the radio signal. To break the silence, Dean threw in an old mixtape of Metallica, one he and Dad use to listen when they were on the road. _Enter Sandman_ is rages through the speakers as Dean taps his left foot on the floor in the rhythm of the drums. He needs his music right now, it's the only thing that can keep him heyawns, he's almost there. 47 hours ago, just after he left Waco he made some calls to figure out what's the precise location in normal English. It turns out that the coordinates 48°13'11.00"N 121°41'4045"W are those of a pass on the south side of Whitehorse Mountain, southwest of a small town called Darrington, located in Washington State. After eighteen hours of driving he made a short stops to get some sleep and also looked up some information about his new case. Now that Sam has the computer, he had to gather his info in an internet café. When he searched for articles on anything out of the ordinary in that area, he stumbled on a whole bunch of missing person reports and even killings in the local news papers. The growing population of cougars and bears and the city closing in on nature are the causes for this unusual animal behavior, according to the wildlife services, but apparently Dean's Dad doubts that the animals have anything to do with it. The missing persons and deaths are random people, he couldn't find a link between either one of them on the internet. So he went on and eventually got himself on Arlington-Darrington Road, heading for the small village, where he'll probably find more information. The last attack took place nine days ago for as far as he knows. This happened at the exact location of the coordinates Dad passed on to him, when a family was hiking, heading for the summit of Whitehorse Mountain. The sixteen year old daughter and the father were killed by God knows what, only the nineteen year old son survived. He expects the local police department to know more about his state and current location, it seems fit to have a word with him. He looks over to the right, where a high peak stands out from the other mountains surrounding him. It seems vicious and beautiful at the same time, threatening him from high up the sky. That's the mountain where it's all happening; Whitehorse Mountain. Dean carries on and passes a church and a small airport, then he enters the town of Darrington. Not quite sure where he's suppose to go he follows the main road, but soon spots the police department on his right. He pulls over and takes a look around trough his windshield. The benefits of a small town, everything is close by. The only motel is across from the police department and it looks rather nice. Thirst things first, before he dives into a warm bed, he has to dig up some information. Quickly he searches through the several false ID's and badges and picks one. As he exits the Impala and walks around it, he checks out the ID as he mouths the false name.

"Gil Bridges. Brilliant, Dad", he chuckles, with the knowledge that this is infact the name of the front man of the band Rare Earth.  
Confident he steps inside the governmental building. The depute, who's reading a file by a large desk in the corner of the room, looks up from his work.  
"Can I help you?", the member of police staff asks.  
"Yeah, I'm Gil Bridges from Wildlife Services", Dean flashes his identification as he walks in.  
"Ah, you're here for the attacks, right?", he stands up and walks over, after which he shakes Dean's hand. "Depute Steven Morson".  
"Is the sheriff in?", Dean questions, going straight to the point.  
"Not at this moment, but he will be later on", the young depute replies.  
"I need to look into the file of the Cleveland family", the so called wildlife ranger informs.  
"Your colleague missed something?", depute Morson asks carefully.  
Ohow, the real rangers got here first? Quickly Dean improvises, the slight hesitation isn't even noticeable.  
"We just want to cover all grounds, make sure we didn't miss the details", he makes up.  
"No problem", he comments.  
The depute walks over to the cabinets next to the desk, opens one and leafs through the files. As he's working, Dean takes his time to have a look around in the small department. Pictures of former sheriffs decorate the bleak walls, those and a collection of medals and declarations. The sheriff's office is separated from the main area, a bit further in the back Dean sees the door that leads to a few temperately cells. It looks pretty much like every police department he's been in; doll, boring and way too familiar.

"Here you go".  
The depute awakens him from his little daydream as he takes out the file and heaves it before Dean's eyes. With a grateful nod he takes it and lays out the documents on the desk. Attentive he scans the pages as he flips through them, but there isn't much there. Puzzled Dean faces the policeman.  
"This is it? No picture material, no death reports?", he questions a little bit surprised.  
"The remains haven't been brought down the mountain yet. Three hunters went up to track them down, bring the bodies back and shoot the animal if they get the chance, but it snowed for quite a while a few days back, so I think they got delayed", the depute explains.  
_And I think they got killed_, Dean thinks without saying the words out loud.  
"So all you have is an eye witness report of …?", Dean concludes, leaving the line open for the depute to fill in.  
"David, the eldest son. Poor guy", he sighs.  
"Got hurt bad?", Dean presumes.  
"No, not at all. He didn't have a scratch on him. But what he saw… Well, read for yourself", the policeman gives the ranger some space.  
Dean reads the eye witness report intently, taking out the issues that matter to him most. Tear wounds, bite marks, major blood loss. By the looks of it, the two victims were shred in pieces. The description of the 'suspect' is rather poor though. Apparently depute Morson notices the change of Dean's facial expression, because he comments on it right away.

"I think he kind of lost it, if I may speak honestly. He said the animal was 'invisible'. He also claimed he heard wolves cry right before the incidents happened, which is insane as you obviously know as a ranger. Have you ever heard of wolves attacking two humans in separate groups for no reason what so ever", he says with a little chuckle.  
Dean however, doesn't find it funny at all and keeps a straight face. The depute notices it and clears his throat awkwardly.  
"But hey, can you blame him? He just lost his entire family", he corrects quickly. "I saw him the other day, strolling down the streets. The guy's a total mess".  
Perplexed Dean looks up from the report.  
"You mean he's still in town?", he asks.  
"Yeah, he doesn't want to head back home without his family, for a proper burial and all", depute Morson explains.  
_Foolish, but understandable_, Dean realizes. Either way, for his investigation on this case it's quite convenient that David is still here. The report isn't much good to him and he really needs more information on this creature before he goes up that mountain. Dean straightens his back and looks the depute in the eye before he exits the police department.  
"Tell me, where can I find this David?"


	5. Chapter 5

Five minutes later Dean halts in front of a church on the corner of Commercial Avenue and Riddle Street. A bit stunned he stares at the sign in front of the house of God, which is called _St. John Mary Vianney Catholic_. The fact that his father is called John and his mother's name was Mary, gives the church name a whole other meaning. A strange feeling comes to him as a chill runs down his spine. Of course this is just an odd coincidence. Whatever it is, it forces him to stop and think. Cautious he walks up the porch and enters the building. The church seems to be deserted, even the priest is nowhere to be seen. Light from outside falls through the stained glass and brings color to the house of the Holy. Candles are lid by the altar and have been burning for a while, given that the wax dripped along down the silver candleholders. Several smaller flames flicker at the side wall, worshipping the statue of Virgin Mary. As Dean enters the small church and walks trough the central aisle between the rows of wooden benches, he spots a figure on the front row. Although Dean's footsteps echo through the old building, the guy apparently doesn't hear him entering. He absently stares at the well known statue of Jesus, pinned to a cross. Dean halts at the end of the aisle and looks up at the statue. Either the young man on the bench ignores him, or he's so trapped in his own thoughts that he shut himself off from the world. Dean decides to say something to break through to him.  
"It's an odd thing, losing that what you love most", he comments, presuming it's David.  
Slowly David glances aside, but doesn't look him in the eye. His gaze is empty, he looks devastated, but in a strange kind of way. As if he has cried so much over the last couple of days, that he's unable to right now.  
"Who are you?", the guy asks with raspy voice.  
For a moment there Dean considers to take out his ID, but then he changes his mind. Sam is always far better at this sort situations than he is, how would he approach this? He decides to be upfront.  
"I'm Dean", he answers.  
"David", the young guy says, not really interested.

Dean sighs, how on earth is he going to get through to this guy? He obviously doesn't want him here. Where the hell is Sam when you need him? A bit ill-at-ease he looks down at his feet.  
"I heard about your family. I'm sorry", he says carefully. "I know how you feel".  
"No, you don't", David huffs.  
Not entirely no. Dean didn't see his entire family die, but the images of his mother still spooks through his head. For a moment he goes back to that night. He remembered he was comfortably sitting on his mothers arm. She held him close, as she always did. They walked into Sam's nursery and they wished his brother goodnight. Dad was there too, it was the last time he remembers him smiling. He was tucked in by the both of them and fast asleep, when he heard a loud scream. He remembers rushing out of bed and into the hallway, where he froze to the ground. From Sam's nursery, a rage of flames heated up the entire house and lurked for him. Then his father appeared from the fire, holding little Sam in his arms.  
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can. NOW!", his Dad says as he gave him Sam.  
Even though the heat was unbearable, such as the stinging smell of the burning house, he ran through the smoke as his father told him and eventually found himself in the front yard, looking up at his burning home. Then Dad came out, snatched them both and carried them away from the house, after which moments later, the second floor exploded. And as he looked over his Dad's shoulder at the burning remains of his house, he knew: He would never see his mother ever again. Even though he was only five, he still remembers that night. Dean closes his eyes and swallows apprehensively. His Mom's death was hard on him then, it still is now. It may be twenty-two years back, it's still the thing that drives him to hunt, it's what drives his father to go to the edge of the earth and beyond to catch the son of a bitch that killed her. That moment effected each and everyone of them, it screwed it all up.  
"Believe me, David. I know", he states.  
A bit surprised by that comment, David looks up into Dean's eyes and sees he's telling the truth.

"You've lost your family too?", he asks.  
"Yes", he replies.  
Of course Dad and Sam aren't dead for as far as he knows now, but it does feel like he has lost them. Dad never recovered from his Mom's death, it tore the family apart. Look at him, he has no idea where his father is, he got into a fight with Sam, after which he took off. He has noone at this moment, he's not even sure if Sam will return, nor if Dad will. What if right now, Sam walks into a trap? What if Dad gets killed in his war with that demon? Suddenly it strikes him. David is what Dean is afraid to become; he's alone.  
"So…", Dean tries to sets his mind on something else and resumes their talk. "What happened up that mountain?"  
"I don't wanna talk about it", David cuts off immediately.  
"I think you do, but you've given up talking about it because no one believes what you are saying and thinks you're loosing it", Dean replies, seeing right through it.  
A bit stunned David looks aside, how does he know that?  
"Like I said, I know how you feel", Dean recalls."Why don't you tell me what happened?"  
"You wouldn't believe me anyway", David huffs down.  
"Try me", Dean bounces back.  
With a sigh David looks down at his feet while Dean observes him. He looks like he has been wearing these cloths since the day it all happened. His dark hair is a mess and he has a beard growing. Blood has dried into his hands, the blood of his family.  
"Dad, Ruth and I were hiking on the north side of Whitehorse Mountain. We started out early morning and everything went smoothly. As the sun was about to set, Ruth and I challenged each other and took the lead. When we reached the location on 4973' where we planned to set up camp, it started…", he starts to tell as he folds his hand together.

"Ruth and I heard a cry of some sort of animal. For a moment we thought it was a grey wolf, but I've heard one before, this was… different. It took Dad ages to get over the Lone Tree Pass, I thought he might had some equipment trouble or something, so I went back".  
He swallows apprehensively and sighs, now comes the hard part. Tears fill up his eyes, but he is able to hold back.  
"I found him, against a tree. There was blood everywhere, his chest was… torn into pieces. He had teeth marks and nail scars all over him. There's no cougar or brown bear or even a wolf in these woods that could have done that. If I wouldn't know better, I'd say it was a Grizzly attack or something", David admits.  
"And your sister?", Dean asks gently.  
"Same deal. I heard her scream, but by the time I got there, it was too late. There was barely anything left, she was only sixteen", he says with trembling voice.  
David rubs his face and wipes away the tears, but he stays strong. He takes a deep breath and continues.  
"Then I heard it, this deep growl. It felt like it was right behind me. When I turned around I didn't see it, but I heard the call again. Then everything returned back to normal", he remembers.  
"What do you mean, back to normal?", Dean questions, curious for his choice of words.  
"The mountain came back to life. Birds started singing again, the wind blew through the trees. Right after the first cry, everything went dead. You could hear a penny drop in that forest", David tells him.  
Carefully he looks up at the guy, but Dean still listens intently and doesn't give any sign of disbelief what so ever.  
"Then what happened?", he asks.  
"I ran. I knew I needed help and the only place I could find it was down town. So I ran", he excuses embarrassed while he avoids Dean's gaze. "I'm such a coward".  
"There's nothing you could have done for them. You would have ended up dead if you had stayed on that mountain", Dean tries to talk the guilt out of his head.  
"Maybe that would have been better", the young man admits.

Dean huffs, it's not a feeling he can go against. If your entire family ends up that, what is there to live for?  
"You know what the worst part is?", David stammers frustrated. "I have absolutely no idea how to explain it. It wasn't an animal, not unlike anything I've ever heard of or seen before. But if it wasn't, what the hell was it? There's just no explanation".  
"There is", Dean states.  
"What? That it was bigfoot?", David comments sarcastically.  
"There's no such thing as bigfoot… I think", Dean answers, doubting his own words as he glances up puzzled.  
"Then what the hell was it?", David wants to know.  
"I not sure yet, but I can tell you, it a creature like you've never seen before. It's not from our world", Dean says honestly.  
"I don't care from what world it is. I want it dead", David states powerful.  
"I'll do my best", Dean promises.  
"When are we leaving?", David gets up from the bench and looks Dean straight in the eye.  
"Wow, dude. I don't think it's wise if you come along", he brings carefully.  
"Do you know anything about that mountain? Do you know anything about hiking?", David questions directly.  
"Well, maybe not, but this is gonna get ugly, David. Believe me, you don't want to be a part of this", Dean tries to discourage him desperately.  
"Trust me, that mountain is one big monster by itself. If you don't know her paths, you'll get lost and die. I know these woods, you know what's in it. Together we'll have a chance. I'm not gonna sit here while you go up that mountain and get killed just like those three hunters", David makes clear.

"You believe those hunters are dead?", Dean asks curious.  
"What do you think?", David returns, finding it obvious.  
"I think you're right", Dean agrees. "But you're not coming".  
"Whatever it is, it killed my family. So don't tell me I don't want to be part of this", the young guy insists firmly. "If you had the chance to face what killed yours, wouldn't you take it?"  
Dean doesn't have an answer ready on that one, he wasn't expecting a curveball. He realizes David is right. He deserves a chance to face what destroyed his life. If he had the slightest chance to have an share in the fight against the demon who killed Mom, he would take it without a doubt.  
"Alright, you can come along", Dean sighs. "But if anything happens to you…"  
But David doesn't even let him finish and walks past him towards the exit. As he does, he looks over his shoulder.  
"What? Like I have anything to lose?", he huffs.  
"Point taken", Dean agrees and follows him outside.  
As he walks down the porch, he finds David standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky. Before them beholds Whitehorse Mountain, looking down on them like a dark thunderstorm approaching. That's what they need to overcome, that majestic piece of nature. That at itself is hard enough, but fighting some aggressive killing creature while they're at it, makes things a little more complicated. Dean sure wishes he had Sam to back him up on this one, but for now he has to do with David. He only hopes that the guy will make it down safe and sound, because in his opinion, enough people have died on that Mountain.


	6. Chapter 6

"There, that's our car".  
David points at the SUV ahead, which is parked along side the road next to a stream. Dean glares through the windshield and nods satisfied. He didn't actually thought it was possible, but David is an even better chart reader than Sam is. He remembers these roads well. At the beginning of their trip by car, Dean exchanged the Metallica tape in his tape recorder for another with various artists on it. Right now Led Zeppelin is on, performing _Black Dog_. As he pulls over, he observes his surroundings. A fallen tree blocks the road ahead. It has done that for a while by the looks of it, because besides the SUV of David's father, two other cars also await for their owners to come back. One is a 4x4 with huge antlers attached to the grill, the other is a two seat Jeep with way too many bumper stickers on the rear end.  
"Guessing those are the hunters' cars", Dean comments.  
He turns of ignition and gets out of the car. David takes his example and walks over to the family's SUV.  
"There's equipment inside we need", David makes clear while he tries to have a look through the window.  
"Like what?", Dean walks around his car and intends to open the trunk.  
"You know, the ten essentials, ice axes, crampons, snowshoes", David sums up.  
"Apparently I don't", Dean mumbles, realizing it's a good thing David decided to come along for the hunt.  
"Damn it, Dad locked it", David curses, as he tries to open one of the doors.  
"That's when my equipment comes in handy".  
David turns around to see what Dean is talking about. By this time he has opened the trunk of his own car and takes out a steel lath which is slightly bend at the end. David has seen it before, it's used to break into cars. For a second he glares at Dean, why would he carry something like that with him? Skillfully Dean slips the lath between the glass and the rubber frame and with a quick movement he unlocks it, without leaving a scratch.  
"Knock yourself out", he steps back and walks away.  
Stunned David glances from the SUV to Dean as he starts to wonder what this guy does for a living.

"How long did it take you to get over that ridge?", Dean wonders.  
"About three hours. We wanted to camp out on the mountain, that's why we left so late", David explains.  
"Good, so if we leave now, we'll be at the pass round 11 PM, right?", Dean checks, walking towards the Impala.  
"I guess, it's getting dark already, so it might take a little longer than that", David admits. "Where are you going?"  
"I need to make a call before we go on this little adventure", he notifies before he lowers himself into the driver's seat.  
He closes the door and sighs, then he takes out his phone. A strong feeling deep inside of Dean tells him he should call his brother before he heads up that mountain. He won't be able to later on, radio and phone signals are bad down in the valley, not to mention up on that mountain. He looks up his brothers phone number in his contacts list and makes the call, but it eventually puts through to his Sam's voicemail. Annoyed he huffs, wondering if Sam just denied his call or that he's unable to come to the phone. While the standard voicemail plays, he starts to feel worried. He better not be in some kind of trouble. Then the final beep sounds in his ear and he leaves a message.  
"Hey Sam, it's me. I just wanted to let you know… well, I'm in Darrington, up north. Dad was right, there is a case here. I'm thinking a Wendigo or a Skinwalker. Anyway, I'm going into the woods and won't be able to contact you any time soon, so…", he pauses and takes a breath. "I hope you're doing okay, Sam. Leave me a message when you get this".  
After those words he hangs up and stares at his phone. Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he pronounce those three simple words? Is it that hard to tell him that he was sorry about that fight? Apparently it is. With a deep sigh he gets out of his car and notices David is already waiting. He has two backpacks ready and is wearing all sorts of equipment on him.  
"You'll need this", he advises, handing him a backpack together with an ice axe.  
Dean takes it and throws it over his shoulder, then he turns to the trunk of his Chevrolet.  
"Good, now lets bring on the good stuff".  
With those words he opens the lid and lifts up the double bottom, revealing his personal arsenal. David's eyes widen and stare down the trunk. Pistols, shotguns, knives, grenades, sniper rifles, axes, crossbows. Every single weapon you could possible think of is stored in that car. Frightened he looks over at Dean.  
"Are you going to kill me?", he asks carefully.  
A bit stunned Dean looks aside and huffs. "What? No of course not".

He takes his gun from his waistband, unloads it and replaces the bullets with silver ones. Curious and at the same time a bit scared, David monitors his actions.  
"Do you know how to handle a rifle, David?", Dean asks while he packs a self-made flame thrower.  
"Yeah, Dad took me deer hunting a few times", David replies doubtful.  
"I'll tell you one thing, it ain't deer we're gonna hunt", Dean comments.  
He hands the young guy a loaded pistol, which David puts away behind his belt. Dean loads a shotgun with rock salt, although he doesn't expect to find a spirit in these woods. When he's done, he gives it to David as well together with a flame gun.  
"Shoot at anything that moves", he orders.  
"What are we hunting exactly?", David likes to know.  
"Probably a Skinwalker, which is a creature that is able to change into any animal it wants and if we're really lucky, it's a Wendigo, which is an incredibly fast and smart close-to-perfect hunter", Dean answers, as if he's reading from an boring history book while making his own shotgun ready.  
David jaw drops, what did he just say? Is this guy for real? Dean notices his reaction as he slams the lid of his car and locks it up. Then he turns to David, who is still staring at him flabbergasted. With a single hand movement he loads his rifle.  
"Welcome to my world", Dean states.  
Leaving David in complete shock, Dean walks passed him and expects him to follow, which he does eventually, after he snaps out of it.  
"So… we just shoot it?", he asks as he catches up with Dean, looking aside at him.  
"Not 'just'. These creatures are damn fast, so it's gonna be a hell of a task. If you see any kind of animal you shot it with that gun I just gave ya. If you see something that looks slightly human, torch it", Dean gives the directions clearly, knowing they will need some time to sink in.  
"What if it's something else?", David questions.  
"Then you run like hell and let me take care of it", Dean states.

"And the shotguns?"  
"Oh, I took those just in case we run into a spirit", Dean adds nonchalant.  
David stares at him with big eyes and halts, leaving Dean in the lead. Completely staggered he glares at him. Did he just say 'spirit'? As in a ghost?  
"You're mad!", he concludes.  
"Yep, sure thing. If you have a better explanation for all this, please share", Dean comments, getting a little annoyed.  
David huffs and catches up with him again, observing him while they walk up the trail.  
"You do this for a living? You actually hunt these things down?", he asks stunned.  
"It doesn't pay well if that's what you mean, but yeah. Someone has to do the job", the eldest of the two admits.  
"And I thought I had it hard at the Uni", David huffs.  
After that statement a silence follows, as the two continue the journey up the steep hills at the fundaments of Whitehorse Mountain. It's a good thing Dean is well trained, it's a tough trail they're following. They parked the car at 750 feet, far below the Lone Tree Pass, where it all happened. The forest is hard to get through. Downed trees make it difficult for them to move fast, as if it's almost trying to slow them down, knowing what's up there. They have hit snow long before David and Dean reach an open area. By the time they get there, they already took their flashlights out. The snow reflects the mystical moonlight, which is about the only source of natural light they have. Dean, wearing nothing more than his worn out jeans, a shirt, a sweater and his leather coat, is starting to feel the freezing cold. He got a pair of gloves from David half way through and they are also wearing the snowshoes they brought along. The snow that fell yesterday reached lower than it did last week and shows that winter is approaching. Their flashlights shimmer on the white snow as they cross the open space. Cautious Dean scans the area holding his flashlight next to his face, shining it in the direction where he's looking. David on the other hand checks the map.  
"We're at 2400 feet", he notifies.  
Dean checks his watch, it's getting close to 10:30 PM.  
"We're not gonna reach Lone Pass Tree before midnight, I can tell you that", he concludes.  
"I'm afraid not. Want to set up camp?", David proposes.  
"No, we're not gonna close our eyes in these woods. Something's off", Dean replies, alert as ever.

He lets the light of his flashlight glide along the edge of the forest. He's not sure what, but his guts tell him that something is terribly wrong. Then the light captures a campsite along the rim of the woods. Immediately he draws his shotgun, which alerts David.  
"What?"  
"Shhh…", Dean hushes him and gestures to follow him.  
Scared but brave, David takes out his gun and does as told. The only thing they hear are the noises of the forest and the snow rustling under their shoes. As snipers they approach the campsite as the damage becomes more and more visible. Claws in the shape of four sharp nails have torn the canvas of the tent apart. When David sees what's inside, he backs out startled. In what's left of the tent behold what's left of three bodies. Their torso has been ripped open and body fluids have spattered everywhere. Bite marks and scratches cover their messed up bodies, blood forms small puddles by their corpses, frozen up. Frost has covered them over the days, they have been here for a while. Their eyes stare up at the moon, dead as can be. Dean spots the rifles leaning against a tree next to the camp and he realizes that these three man are the hunters that were sent up to bring down the remains of David's father and sister. They were probably attacked when they were hiding out for the snow some days back, maybe even in their sleep.  
"They didn't get really far", he comments cynical.  
He shimmers his flashlight on the torn up canvas and looks over at David.  
"Do you recognize those?", Dean questions.  
"Exactly the same marks as on my Dad and on Ruth", he claims with difficulty.  
A bit stunned by this discovery, Dean again lights up the marks.  
"I can tell you one thing, it's not a Wendigo", Dean concludes.  
The claws are different, only four nails in stead of five, like the close to human Wendigo creatures have. He looks up at the moon, but it isn't even full yet, so it can't be a Werewolf. He sighs and steps back.  
"Lets keep moving, there's nothing we can do for them", Dean states.  
He walks away from the site where a horrific event took place days ago, followed by David, who's awfully quiet as they continue their journey. Dean looks over at the young guy as they enter the dark woods of Whitehorse Mountain; he can see he has trouble handling what he just saw.  
"You're holding up?", he asks caring.  
"I'm okay", David lies brave.

They traverse left further into the forest to a wide-open strip, leading to the slopes of Lone Pass Trees. The trees above them seem to try to cut out every bit of light, as if they want to cut them off from the rest of the world. Almost complete darkness overshadows them. Their flashlights aren't much help either, they only reach about a yard away. Further than that, there's nothing to see, just pitch black darkness. They on the other hand, can be seen from a great distance, shimmering their flashlights all over the place. Dean decides to turn his off and David follows his example. For a moment he closes his eyes and listens, trying to identify the many sounds of the night. Then he opens them, giving them time to adjust. He can't put his finger on it, but he can tell that he's being watched. He pats David on the shoulder to tell him to stop. Alert and highly aware of what's going on around him, he observes his surroundings. Then he hears it, something sneaking through the night. It's only a fraction of a second that he hears a branch twitch, but it's enough for him to aim his shotgun precisely in the direction where it came from. In a quick response he pulls David behind the tree who dives for the ground. Dean hopes for God that it's not a Skinwalker, because a load of rock salt is only gonna piss it off. Without hesitation he pulls the trigger and the rock salt shoots from the barrel. As he does, he takes cover behind a tree. It's a good thing he does, because whatever it is, it fires back. Then he hears the rock salt hit target, right before the slug from the other weapon digs itself in the tree trunk right where his head was a moment ago. Instead of an animal sound or that of any other creature, he hears a voice.  
"AH! God DAMN IT!"  
Dean's eyes widen as he feels the bark of the tree against his back. He knows that voice, he knows it way too well. Carefully he glances around the tree trunk.  
"Ohow…", he comments.  
"What? What is it?", David whispers scared from the ground.  
"This is far worse than a Wendigo or a Skinwalker", Dean comments softly, after which he puts on a louder voice.  
"Zoë?"  
A moment of silence as it slowly sinks in who's hiding behind that tree. But when it does, hell breaks loose.  
"Dean Winchester, you son of a BITCH!", Zoë curses.  
She has her arm clamped in front of her chest, on which Dean just unleashed the insides of his shotgun. Zoë has never been shot with rock salt before and although she knows it won't do much damage, it hurts like hell.  
"You two know each other?", David whispers surprised by this unexpected development.  
"Unfortunately, we do", Dean comments.  
"You SHOT me!", she cries out.

Dean sighs; he's dead meat. He just fired a gun at Zoë Sullivan and actually managed to hit her. He's not sure if he will live to tell the tale. Then he remembers the little prank she pulled on him in Paragould. As his facial expression changes he glares around the trunk.  
"Well… you deserved it!", he shouts back, regretting his words the moment he pronounces them.  
"Beg pardon?", she says in disbelief.  
"You wrecked my Chevy!", Dean argues with doubt.  
"Oh, you have GOT to be KIDDING me!", she snipes frustrated. "You shot me over a freakin' car?"  
Immediately Dean feels insulted. "It's a…"  
"Yeah, I know. A '67 Chevrolet Impala. Big deal!", she interrupts pissed off.  
"You know what's a big deal? You shot me too, back then in Rochester. With a real bullet!", Dean bounces back at her.  
A short silence. Dean only hears her fast respiration and soft moaning, which makes him feel bad for shooting her.  
"Zo?"  
"Yeah…", she moans.  
"Sorry", he confesses.  
"You will be when I'm done with you", Zoë sighs.  
"You're not gonna shoot me, are ya?", Dean questions before he comes out of his hiding.  
"No, I guess we're square. I shot you, you shot me…", Zoë gets up from behind a fallen tree and unloads her gun.  
Now also Dean and David appear. All grab their flashlight and shine their light at each other. As soon as the shimmer catches a glimpse of Zoë's face, the slightly relaxed expression on Dean's face changes to a worried one. Her face is covered in blood, as if she got beat up by a street gang. The red substance drips down her face from her forehead, eyebrow and a big cut in her cheek. No way in hell that a bit of rock salt caused that.  
"Jesus, Zo. What the hell happened?", Dean asks stunned.

"I got into a little fight", she admits careless.  
"With what?", he interrogates.  
"It doesn't matter. You brought him up here?", she questions staggered, hinting at David.  
"He needed a guide", David answers before Dean does. "I thought you were an FBI agent?"  
Surprised Dean looks over from David to Zoë.  
"You talked to him?", he asks.  
"Of course I did, you think I would go up that mountain with a lack of information?", she answers as if it's obvious.  
"Why didn't you tell me?", he asks David.  
"I didn't think it was relevant. How was I suppose to know that she's a hunter too?", David excuses offended.  
Now it's Zoë's turn to give Dean a stunned and annoyed look.  
"You told him?", she cries out.  
"He deserved to know, Zoë", Dean defends.  
"He deserves to live and so do you", her piercing gaze focuses on Dean. "Both of you, get your ass off this mountain".  
"No, not without my family", David states determined.  
"You're no good to them dead, David. Believe me, you will end up that way if you don't go back", she lectures.  
"For God's sake, Zo. What are you hunting?", Dean wants to know.  
"It's taken care off, but you two need to leave. Now!", she replies stern. "You can pick up your family first thing in the morning, I promises you that".  
Her dark brown eyes look deep into David's. Without many words, he knows he must do what she tells him to. Eventually they know more about this than he does.  
"If you wanna live, leave", Zoë pressures.

He looks from the one to the other, than he nods as he swallows apprehensively.  
"Okay", he agrees.  
"Here, take this with ya", she hands him an amulet.  
Dean recognizes it as one of the demon protection necklaces Zoë stole from his trunk back in Rochester. Wanting to get a grip on the situation he tries to read her, but she gives him nothing.  
"Run and don't look back", she presses on him.  
"And the guns?", David gives Dean a questioning look.  
"Keep them, it might come in handy", Dean insists.  
"You're going with him", Zoë states firmly.  
Dean looks her in the eye. Zoë's gaze can be penetrating, but right now Dean's green eyes seem to go right through her.  
"No, I'm not", he says calm.  
"Dean…", she tries desperately.  
"No. I'm don't bail on a case", he makes clear.  
"You are not part of this case", Zoë returns.  
"I am now", he counters strict. "I'm not leaving you alone on this one".  
It's not often that it happens, but Zoë doesn't argue him. The way he says it, the way he's looking at her, she just knows that she can't change his mind. David seems to notice that too, because he steps back and intends to leave.  
"Good luck", he wishes them.  
Both Dean and Zoë give him a grateful nod, after which he disappears into the dark woods. When he's out of sight, Dean turns back to Zoë. Her eyes are shallow and sad, this is not the fate she had wished for Dean. Now that he chooses to stay, he chooses to die. Totally not okay with this, she nods her head and looks down at the soil of the earth.

"You shouldn't have followed me, Dean", she sighs.  
"I didn't", he corrects honest.  
"Oh please", she huffs annoyed. "How else would you explain that you end up here on the…"  
Dean interrupts her before she has the chance to get mad. "Dad sent me".  
Stunned she looks up, his words come to her as a complete shock. Then her emotions turn to anger.  
"I see. Now why doesn't that surprise me?", she asks herself bitter.  
Dean has noticed her aggressive behavior when it comes to his father several times before and he can't help to question about it this time.  
"What is your problem with my Dad?", he asks defensive.  
"Don't start Dean", she cuts off.  
She sighs deeply and looks away with her hands in her side.  
"You shouldn't have come".  
Zoë Sullivan who doesn't want to pick a fight, that's a new one for Dean. Slowly the day is dawning that something is about to happen, something big. He approaches her and forces her to look him in the eye.  
"Zo, what the hell are you hunting?", he asks with his piercing green eyes staring into hers.  
"I'm not hunting, Dean", she answers. "I'm ending this".  
Then, far in distance a church bell rings. Startled Zoë looks into the direction of the valley as the bells give her a sense of time. Three… four… five… This is it, this is the moment she has feared for exactly five years now. This is the moment that she has to pay for her actions. Seven… eight… nine…  
"Zo?", Dean asks puzzled.  
For the first time ever he sees fear in her eyes. He's not sure how to handle that, considering that Zoë always seems so fearless and completely in control of everything. He still doesn't have a clue of what's going on, but he's starting to fear the worst himself. Gently he grabs her arms. Slowly she turns her head and looks him in the eye. They are filled with tears and even with the lack of light he can see them glister. Ten… eleven… Then the last call of the church bell echoes through the valley. It feels like the drums stop right at that point and the wooden floor is about to disappear under her feet, which will force her to fight the noose. She can barely say a word, but she know they will be one of her last.  
"It's time…", she whispers.


	7. Chapter 7

No wind, not even the slightest breeze. Evergreens stopped whispering, night animals seem to have vanished in the deepest holes of the forest. Whitehorse Mountain has turned into the remains of a dead rock in a matter of seconds. No tree can grow, no life can be lived, only pure evil lingers through these woods now. Dean observes his surroundings with disbelief. He has seen many things over the years, but this beats it all. Zoë backs out nervously shining her flashlight around. All she can hear is her own respiration, her own fear.  
"What the hell is going one here?", Dean questions whispering.  
She looks over at him, but doesn't answer.  
"You can still run", she offers.  
"Wrong answer", he corrects smartly.  
"It doesn't matter if you stay, Dean. You can't save me, it's too late. If you go now, you might still have a chance", Zoë tries desperately.  
"I'll take my chances right here", Dean sticks to his plan.  
"Then you'll die!", she cries out in an attempt to get through to him.  
"We'll see about that", he states bravely and gives her a piercing look. "Now for once, answer my question. What are we dealing with?"  
Zoë sighs deeply and decides to tell him. Perhaps he'll let her be if she tells him the truth, when he sees it's a lost cause. But before Zoë can answer, a haul echoes through the valley.  
"That's no coyote", Dean realizes.

Chills run up and down her spine when she hears it. She has heard stories, it's the last thing you hear before you die; they are coming for her. It repeats several times, then the silence returns. Spooked Zoë searches her surroundings, then she sees it. Her gaze freezes, focused at the top of the ridge. Dean observes her big eyes and follows them, but he doesn't see anything. Then Zoë does the one thing she has never done before; she flees. A bit startled Dean stares at her for a split second, but then he hears the haul again. He might not see what Zoë's running from, but right now might be a good time to start running himself. As if they are both being chased by the devil, they run down hill through the forest, trying to avoid crashing into trees and other obstacles. He monitors Zoë constantly, not leaving her out of sight. Without hesitation she jumps down a ridge skillfully and continues her attempt to escape. Dean halts at the edge of the ridge and looks down at a stream which has carved itself through the mountain. Wow, that's deep! Before he jumps, he glances ahead and spots a small hunters cabin a bit further down the hill.  
"Smart girl", he comments and makes the jump.  
As fast as he possibly can he runs down the slope, trying his very best not to trip as he goes.  
"If you're not gonna tell me what these damn things are, at least tell me if I can shoot the bastards!", Dean shouts as he jumps over a fallen tree.  
"Not with salt or silver!", she returns.  
"Torch them?", Dean gives it another try.  
"Won't do!", Zo answers while running for her life.  
"Just freakin' great!", Dean curses frustrated.  
Zoë is just several yards away from the cabin when she's tackled. Overwhelmed by her attacker she falls to the ground and drops her shotgun. Desperate and terrified she tries to fight it off, but she's without a chance. Startled Dean has to see how an invisible creature tears up her leg as she screams out in pain.

"Zoë! NO!", he roars.  
"Grab the shotgun!", she cries out.  
In a matter of seconds he's with her, picks up the shotgun with a quick movement and single handedly loads it. Then he aims and fires just above Zoë who is forced on the ground. He hears a load squeal and for a brief moment Zoë seems to be freed from her ambusher. Quickly Dean helps her up, drags her onto the porch and inside the hunters cabin. Quickly he locks the door, but at the moment it does, an incredibly strong force almost barges inside from the other side.  
"Son of a…", he curses while he uses all his strength to stop the door from tumbling over.  
Suddenly it all stops. Alert Dean stands by the door, but then notices the line of goofer dust before the doorstep. By the time he turns around to face Zoë, she crawls to the wall, scared to death. As the creatures outside keep barking like mad, she glances from one window to the other, completely terrified. There's no way they could come in though, every possible entry of this little cabin is sealed with the grey sand-like dust. This isn't the first time Zoë's here. She made sure she could return to this place and be safe, at least for a little while. That she had a back-up plan doesn't surprise Dean one bit, the fact that she's crawled up against the wall like a scared little animal does. He has never seen Zoë scared, never in his life. Tears stream down her face and mix with the blood on her cheeks as she anxiously keeps an eye on the windows, breathing fast.  
"Hey, calm down, Zo. Take a breath", Dean tries as he walks over and kneels down.  
But Zoë's restless, upset she keeps glaring for a possible other way for the bastards to get in. When one of the creatures outside hauls like a wolf in the night, she almost jumps out of her skin and can't help but to cry.  
"It's okay, you're safe. Shhh… Calm down, Zo. They can't get in", he hushes her calmly.  
Frightened she tries to find protection by him. He caresses her back as she lays her head on his shoulder. Her entire body is shaking, yet her skin feels clammy. Dean knows Zoë is anything but affectionate these days, but these things really scared the hell out of her. Dean never imagined that this powerful and fearless hunter could turn into a fragile little girl she is right now. He keeps hushing her, trying his best to calm her down. Slowly her breathing gets back to normal and she creates some distance between them. Worried Dean tries to make eye contact, but she's avoiding his gaze.  
"Don't ever tell Sam this", she requests. "He'll laugh his ass off".

Dean smiles, she's back. As she slowly starts getting back control over her fear, the pain begins to set in. He glances down and finds her bloody leg. Through the fabric of her jeans he can see the deep torn open wounds, it's bleeding badly. He takes off his leather belt and carefully lifts her leg in order to slip the belt underneath, which hurts her.  
"Nasty wound, Zo. Can you stitch it?", he asks before he tightens the belt in order to stop the heavy bleeding.  
"No, I can't", she sighs. "Haven't you figured out what these things are, Dean?"  
"I have", he admits. "Hellhounds".  
She swallows apprehensively and confirms with a nod.  
"What do you know about them?", Zoë asks before she starts to explain.  
"I know they are the gate watchers of hell and that they collect souls who struck a deal with a demon", Dean states. "Which gives you a hell of a lot explaining to do".  
She sighs, realizing she owes him that much. He just saved her life again.  
"What else do you know?", she asks, whipping the tears from her cheeks.  
"Not much. Sam's the nerd, remember?", he jokes.  
She smiles, Dean's glad she's still able to. But the smile soon fades as she has to confront him with reality.  
"It's not that I can't stitch up my leg because I don't know how", she explains, still with trembling voice. "It's because…"  
She pauses, finding it difficult to admit. Dean looks up into her eyes, waiting for a follow up.  
"You can't heal hellhound's wounds", Zoë sighs.  
Shocked Dean stares at her as it starts to come to him what that means. Those things have messed up her leg pretty bad. If they can't stop the bleeding, she might die over this.  
"Pull it", Zoë orders, hinting at the belt. "I'm ready".

For a brief moment he looks her in the eye, but then he pulls the belt tight. She screams out and is barely able to keep it together, but she fights it well. Pain she can handle. Death, that's a whole other deal. Zoë groans and rests her head against the wooden wall behind her.  
"This is useless", she sighs. "I should just walk out and let them take me".  
"Are you nuts? That's suicide!" Dean replies stunned.  
But as Dean pronounces those words, he realizes that's exactly what this is. She planned to give them what they want, her soul. Suddenly their last conversation over in Paragould makes sense, she really didn't expect to see them again. When she said 'deadline', she meant it in the true sense of the word. Zoë didn't came here to solve a case, Zoë came her to die.  
"That was your plan, wasn't it? You were waiting for them to come and claim you", he says stunned.  
"Exactly, a hell of a lot better than bleeding to death in here. I'm going to hell anyway", she states careless.  
"Not if I can help it", Dean makes clear determined.  
He takes off his backpack and starts to rummage through it, till he finds what he was looking for. He takes out a first aid kid, one of the ten essentials David packed for him.  
"Maybe you can't stitch it, but if we block the wound, the blood can't come through, right?", he says hopeful as he unrolls a bandage.  
"Dean, let it go already", she huffs.  
Perplexed he stares at her, he can't believe her careless attitude right now.  
"Do you wanna die?", he asks, but corrects himself. "No wait, let me rephrase that. Do you wanna go to hell?"  
"According to AC/DC Hell ain't a bad place to be", she claims cynical, quoting the title of one of their songs.  
"Don't get smart with me", Dean doesn't find it funny.  
She sighs deeply and avoids his penetrating gaze.

"If they drag me down the pit, their job is done and they'll leave. The killings will stop", Zoë explains slowly. "Till that time they are loose cannons, they kill everything that comes on their path".  
Her voice gains strength as her story goes, now she does look Dean in the eye.  
"Innocent people like the Clevelands are forced to Hell because I am too damn scared to face what I started! What if others come barging up this mountain? They'll end up dead!", she brings to mind.  
"David will take care of that, now that he knows he'll make sure that no one will", Dean states. "That gives us time to figure out how to fight these things. What did you load that shotgun with? It did something".  
"It was loaded with slugs of goofer dust, but it only holds them off for a little while", Zoë says, not really hopeful.  
"There must be a way", Dean isn't going to give up that easily.  
"I did research for five years, Dean. Why do you think I know so much? I tried every book, every spell, I pulled all the mojo I could possibly come up with. Nothing worked, okay?", she states frustrated.  
Hopeless she looks him in the eye. He can see she's telling the truth, she really pulled every string.  
"You know I'm a fighter, but this isn't a fight I can win", she claims.  
"Good thing you're not fighting it alone then", Dean replies stubborn.  
He carefully starts to bandage her wounded leg, but the blood comes right through. Yet he finishes the job and than goes for his cell phone.  
"Who you gonna call?", she ask curious.  
"The nerd", he grins.  
"He's down hill?", she presumes.  
Dean looks up, but doesn't answer. He stares at his phone as he looks up Sam's number. Dean doesn't have to tell her, Zoë know something happened between the two of them.  
"You two got into a fight?", she asks, not beating around the bush.  
He confirms with a nod, obviously still pondering about it.

"That bad, huh?", she sees.  
"It was like the time he left for Stanford", he sighs.  
"Where is he then?", Zoë questions.  
"I dunno, probably in Nashville", Dean tells her.  
"Tennessee?", she checks stunned. "What the hell is he doing that far east?"  
"It was the weirdest thing", he starts. "Someone called him, didn't identify herself and claimed that she knew where Dad was".  
"How did she get Sam's number?", Zoë wonders.  
"Beats me, but when it comes to finding Dad, Sam can be quite… obsessive", Dean says, searching for the right word.  
"I've noticed", Zoë remembers the long conversations she had with Sam and the numerous arguments the boys had in her presence.  
"Crap…", Dean stares down at his phone.  
"No signal?", Zoë realizes.  
"Zero", Dean sighs, thinking of another solution.  
Then suddenly David's backpack pops up in his mind. Again he start searching through it. He was sure David packed a satellite phone. He finds the batteries, but the phone itself is nowhere to be found.  
"What are you looking for?", Zoë asks curious.  
"David, he packed a satellite phone", he informs as he keeps rummaging in the bag. "Damn it! I must have lost it outside".  
He gets up and walks over to one of the windows. They both listen carefully, but neither of them hear a thing. No growl, no nothing, it's almost too quiet. He scans the area outside, but there's not a living, or dead thing to be seen. Then he spots the big black phone in the snow, just a yard away from the cabin.

"I see it", he notifies.  
Zoë gets up, limps towards him and glances passed his shoulder. Without hesitation, Dean intends to go out, but Zoë grabs his arm.  
"And you call me suicidal?", she questions dazzled.  
"We need that phone, Zo", Dean replies.  
"If you go out there, you'll die!", she cries out.  
"So will we if we don't contact Sam", he returns.  
He hands her the shotgun and looks deep into her eyes.  
"I haven't seen them yet. If they are still focused on you, they might not attack me", Dean brings to mind.  
"And what if they do?", she confronts him with the other possibility there.  
"You'll back me up", he states, trusting her. "Okay?"  
Zoë sighs and takes the gun, but she's not particularly happy with it.  
"Okay", she muddles.  
He looks her in the eye and turns towards the door. Nervous he takes a breath; here goes nothing. He turns the doorknob and opens the wooden door which shrieks, without interrupting the line of goofer dust. He steps onto the porch and looks back for a second, then he descents down the small stairs. The snow feels cold, even through his boots. He has to admit that he's starting to feel a bit scared himself, being as exposed as he is. Alert he walks towards the phone without making a sound. He ducks to pick it up, when he hears what he was afraid for; a deep, angry growl.  
"Dean…?", Zoë calls after which she swallows apprehensively.  
Slowly Dean looks up and sees two red eyes lighting up in the darkness of the woods. It approaches him like a tiger sneaking up on his pray. While Dean stares right into the hypnotizing eyes of hell, an unnatural wind starts to circle around the cabin. Zoë is shocked to see that the goofer dust is blown off the wooden planks of the doorstep; there goes their only chance to keep those nasty things out. Then the moonlight falls on the creature, revealing it's true form.

"Zo..?", Dean asks doubtful without moving a muscle. "These hellhounds, do they look like giant black pit bulls with red glowing eyes?"  
He and Zoë both realize that the fact that he can see it, is not a good thing. Now he's just as screwed as Zoë is. He has never seen anything animal-like so evil as what is standing before him. He's not sure what he should do, it feels like if he's frozen to the ground.  
"RUN!", Zoë shouts.  
Dean grabs the phone and flees back for the cabin as Zoë aims her shotgun.  
"DEAN DOWN!", she commands before she pulls the trigger.  
He dives for the ground and lands on his back, unfortunately just in time to see the hellhound coming towards him with tremendous speed. Right before he's about to release his fury on him, he's shot out of the air and squeals like a pup. Quickly Dean gets back on his feet and runs up the porch. Instead of just one hellhound, a whole bunch of them start to come from behind the trees. Zoë's eyes widen, there's no way she can handle them all. She lowers her shotgun and backs out. She doesn't have a choice, there is no other way. What she's about to do isn't like anything she tried before, but it's their only chance to keep them out of the cabin. As Dean stumbles in she drops her shotgun, heaves her right hand in front of her and closes her eyes. Suddenly the door slams right without anyone touching it, cutting off the creatures outside. Zoë needs her full concentration to keep the door shut as soon as they try to storm in. Her heaved hand shakes, her fingers stretched out. She can feel her heart pounding like mad as her respiration fastens. Completely stunned Dean stares at her, but Zoë brings him back to reality.  
"Dean, the goofer dust!", she cries out, fighting to keep the door closed.  
He snaps out of it and grabs the bag from which Zoë sprinkled the dust earlier and quickly lays out a line before the door. As soon as the door pillars are connected by the dust, the pressure on the door drops. Out of breath Zoë lowers her hand and opens her eyes. Wow, that was intense. She didn't think she could do it, but she did. Making a whiskey bottle fall off a shelf back in Rochester is one thing, talking to Sam only using her mind is another, but this was a whole new experience. Dean, who can't believe what he just saw stares at her, his jaw slightly dropped. She notices his glare when she looks over, the indignation, the detest. Suddenly Zoë isn't just the hunter, the normal human being he thought she was. Dean obviously doesn't know how to handle this.  
"Christo!", he shouts.

"I'm not a demon, Dean", she comments bored.  
"Then what the hell are you?", he asks stern.  
"I'm human", she tries to bring to him. "Dean, it's me".  
She steps closer, but Dean draws his gun. Surprised she holds her hand up innocently, gesturing him to slow down.  
"Easy, tiger", she says careful.  
"Leave her the hell alone", Dean commands, still believing a demon is possessing her.  
"Would you drop it already? You just yelled 'Christo' at me. Here, I can say it myself! Now _if_ I was a demon, that would be an awesome trick, wouldn't it?", she tries to prove.  
"Shut up", Dean stammers, starting to doubt himself.  
"It's all mighty fine that I'm staring down that barrel of yours, but a bullet won't kill a demon, it will kill me though", she brings to mind.  
"A human is not suppose to be able to do that kind of freaky stuff!", Dean states firm.  
"Neither is Sam, but I don't see you pointing a gun at him!", she returns smartly.  
He swallows apprehensively, a bit overcome by that answer. She does have a point there.  
"Do you want to soak me in Holy water if that makes you feel better? Fine, do whatever you want", Zoë offers.  
But Dean already lowers his gun, realizing that she's right. As he locks it and puts the rifle away behind his waistband, he looks down ashamed. Right at the moment he wants to apologize, she intervenes.  
"It's fine, I would have responded exactly the same", she insures, understanding his decision to draw a gun on her.  
He sighs, still stunned about what just happened, but he's able to relax a bit. Nervous he looks outside, but the hellhounds have disappeared. Zoë can see that the sight of the hellhound really got to him.

"You okay?", she checks.  
"Yeah, I'm okay", he claims in denial.  
Restless he starts pacing through the cabin, keeping a sharp eye outside. But it's not just the creatures he keeps an eye on, he can't help but to monitor Zoë too. He huffs almost unnoticeable, and he thought he had her figured. There's a whole lot more to Zoë Sullivan than he sees at the surface, that's for sure.  
"It's a good thing we'll be stuck up here for a while, because it's about time you start talking", he makes clear, pointing his finger at her.  
"We better make that call first", Zoë claims.  
Dean knows she's avoiding the subject, but he also gets that she's right. They don't have much time with her injury, so they better make that call fast. He picks up the satellite phone and inserts Sam's cell phone number , but before he presses the green button, he hesitates. He knows Sam, he's his stubborn pain in the ass little brother, there's no way he's gonna talk to him after their fight. As soon as he will hear Dean's voice, he'll probably hang up. The one person he has been wanting to talk for days, is sitting right across from him.  
He hands Zoë the phone. "You call him".


	8. Chapter 8

_Nashville, Tennessee_  
_Present Day_

With a deep sigh Sam gets off the bus. The rain falls down on him, but in stead of being annoyed by it, he finds it refreshing. Finally, he's in Nashville! It took him three days to get here. Three days of torture waiting for the damn thing to arrive in the first place, being forced in a seat made for someone who's 4'8 and having to change two times to get to his final destination, but he's in Nashville! Of course he could have hopped on a plain for a journey of only several hours, but he had a hunch he would have a bit of trouble getting through security, carrying a duffel loaded with all sorts of weapons. He might always be complaining about the suicidal driving skills of his brother, or about his collection of Metallica, Motorhead and Black Sabbath tapes which he plays over and over again while he sings along, but three days of traveling to get from one city to the other wasn't quite a joy watches the bus take off into the night, continuing its trip. Suddenly he feels alone, left behind, and not just by a damn bus. It's not the first time during these couple of days that Sam thinks about Dean and their fight. Boy, he could sure use him right now. Not that he can't take care of himself, but he got use to his brother's presence. When it comes to Dad, Dean knows him best and Sam realizes he's going to be missing him on this search. He has to deal with it, Dean's not here and Dean isn't the only one who's guilty of that. So, what now? He decides it will probably be best to settle down in a motel and get online, see if he can find some information on the internet, then he'll start asking questions. There's not much he can do right at this moment, considering it's 2.30 AM. It's going to be quite a task, finding a man in a city covering 550 square miles with 600.000 citizens. And all he has is the word of a girl he has never met, of which he doesn't even catch her name.  
"This is insane", he whispers to himself, looking around.

He had lots of time to ponder about the current events and said it to himself more than once during his bus ride: turn back. If he's honest he started regretting this impulsive act the minute he saw Dean drive away in his Chevy, but he couldn't let him know, he couldn't let Dean win. He is so tired of the bossing around, being treated like a little kid. Yet Dean's words had some truth to them. What if this is a trap? What if he's walking straight into it? Sam's doubts will not wake him turn around though. He is here and he is not going to stop searching until he fiends Dad. Sam keeps his head low and buries his hand in his pockets, protecting himself from the rain. It's not particularly cold for this time of night, but 49 °F isn't anything near Texas. Raindrops fall down on him silently as clouds block out the moon from the scenery. He starts to walk in the direction of what seems to be a hotel. The interstate, which lays directly next to the parking lot, crosses Highway 70. Traffic travels by fluidly, Sam's surprised by the number of cars on the road at this hour. Through the curtains of water he spots a sign at the entrance of the building he's approaching. He was right, it is a hotel. The Hampton Inn Bellevue looks like a fancy place from outside, but Sam doesn't mind to spend some money on a decent bed. Not that he's planning to sleep though; although he didn't get much rest on the ride over, he doesn't feel like settling down and relax. He has better things to do, he has to find Dad. It's all he can think of. Right at the moment he's about to enter the Hampton Inn Bellevue, he hears his cell phone ringing. Hastily he takes his Blackberry out of his pocket, hoping it to be the mysterious woman who tipped him off earlier three days ago. The display announces the caller as 'unidentified', it might not be so far fetched. Sam picks up immediately.  
"Hello?"  
A relieved sight sounds from the other side.  
"Hey Sam".

It's a feminine voice alright, but it's not the mysterious lady, as Dean called her, who passed him the information about their Dad. He does recognize her though, it's the last person on earth he expected a call from.  
"Zoë?", he asks stunned.  
"Yeah… hey listen", she cuts to the chase. "I'm in trouble".  
Sam stops in his tracks. He thought she might be after she left so strangely back in Arkansas, but the fact that she's admitting it, means that this is serious.  
"Were the hell are you?", he starts to get worried.  
"I'm just outside Darrington, Washington State".  
"Are you hurt?", Sam asks directly.  
"Sort of", Zoë muddles careless. "But that's not the point".  
She pauses for a moment, knowing what she is about to say might come as an unpleasant surprise.  
"Your brother's here".  
Totally staggered Sam stares ahead with his phone still close to his ear. What did she just say? Dean is there? With her? A million questions pop up in his head, but he finds it difficult to choose the first one to ask.  
"What?", is the only thing he can cry out.  
"Yeah, I thought you might say that".  
"But, how the…? He went out to do Dad's dirty laundry!", he recalls stunned.  
"Are you calling me dirty laundry?", Zoë throws back at him insulted.  
"_You_ are the Dad's dirty laundry?", Sam asks confused.  
"Apparently, but it doesn't matter", she interferes before Sam has the chance to rage on. "Listen to me, Sam. Dean's life is in danger. If he stays here with me, he'll die. You have to get him out before…"

Now it's Zo who gets interrupted. Puzzled Sam stares at his phone for a moment and then listens carefully, trying to identify the sounds he hears. It seems like Zoë is fighting someone over the phone, then he hears Dean in the background.  
"Give me the damn phone! Give it!"  
"No! Let… go!"  
"Zoë!"  
"Don't Zoë me, you son of a …"  
"Hand me the freakin' phone!"  
A line almost seems to crack up, but than the noise stabilizes. Dean probably has one the fight over the phone, because he can hear his voice loud and clear.  
"Sam?"  
"What", he replies cold.  
"Whatever you do, don't hang up. This is serious", Dean clears up before Sam does stupid things he's going to regret later.  
"I thought you were on Dad's job?", Sam confronts, still acting pissed.  
"I am, this _is_ the job. The coordinates led me to Zo", he explains. "This is not some ghosthunt, Sam. This is unlike we ever faced before".

Sam hears the seriousness in his brother's voice and he immediately swallows back the smart response he had waiting for him.  
"I need you to get your ass over here and while you're at it look up everything you can find about hellhounds", Dean demands calm but stern.  
"Hellhounds?", Sam repeats perplexed. "As in the actual soul claimers of the demons?"  
"Yep, and we're on the menu".  
"How did that happen? You have to make a deal before they claim your soul at the arranged time", Sam remembers from his reading.  
"They were let off the hook", Dean claims. "Sam, you have to find out a way to kill them".  
"You can't kill hellhounds, it's impossible!", Sam replies.  
"No, you don't understand. You _must_ find a way to kill them", Dean repeats slowly, making sure the words sink in.  
The youngest swallows apprehensively, realizing in how much trouble Zo and his brother are. He read a lot of books in where these creatures were mentioned and he never found anything about killing them.  
He turns around and stares up, letting the rain fall down on him. And he thought he made it to his final destination. He just traveled half the country to get east, now he has to travel all the way up north?  
"This better not be some excuse to get me away from Dad, Dean", he warns with a sigh.  
"I wish it was, Sam", Dean says depressed. "Hurry it up, will ya?"  
"Sure thing", he confirms tensed.  
"And ehm, about what happened down in Texas…"  
"That's not important now, we'll talk about that later", Sam replies on Dean's unspoken words.

He closes his eyes as a burden falls off his shoulders. It must, for him to be able to carry a much heavier weight on them. The fate of Zoë and Dean lays in his hands.  
"One more thing", Sam states, before hanging up.  
"You do know what happens when these things catch you. You don't just die…", he brings to mind.  
"We go to hell", Dean finishes.  
Sam gulps and nods his head, although Dean can't see that. A short silence follows, after which Dean ends their conversation.  
"See you soon, Sammy".  
The disconnected tone beeps in his ear, but it takes a few seconds before Sam actually lowers the phone and puts it away. Well, that changes things. No time to loose, he needs to get to Washington State and fast. He walks back onto the parking lot, observing his surroundings. No bus ride this time, he needs personal transportation. His gaze glides along the parked cars in front of him. Then he spots a silver 2005 Chrysler Crossfire Roadster amongst them. He nods approving, he could imagine worse rides than this fast sports car. Then his conscious kicks in. He can not just connect some wires and steal a car like that! Or any car! But his thought of his brother and Zoë ending up dead because he was too civilized to steal a car isn't something he could live with either. Right now it seems like he's left to no other option. He moans and looks at the incredible piece of technique, but eventually steps towards it, mumbling as he goes.  
"I am so gonna regret this".


	9. Chapter 9

Darrington, Washington  
Present Day

Floor, wall and back. Floor, wall and back. It's the way a rubber ball bounces through the small hunters cabin, somewhere on the slopes of Whitehorse Mountain. The sun refuses to shine, hiding behind the dark clouds above. The evergreens whisper nervously in the stern Northern wind, as if they are anxious for what's coming. As Dean throws the ball again, he glances over at Zoë, who hasn't moved from her position opposite of the door. Absent she stares in front of her, biting her lip. She hasn't said a word since her conversation with Sam over eight hours ago. Dean shot a few questions at her, but she apparently decided to pretend he's nothing but air, because she refused to answer any of them. A million thoughts cross Dean's mind as he observes the young woman. So Zoë Sullivan made a deal? What on earth was she thinking? What did she get in return? Bored he tosses the ball across the room again and catches it skillfully with one hand and repeats this movement over and over. Irritated Zoë rest her head against the wooden planks as her eyes start to follow the rubber ball. Why does he need to do that? Come on, it's annoying, completely useless, annoying, and did she mention annoying?"Are you gonna stop doing that?", she asks, firmly requesting him to knock it off.  
"Are you gonna start talking?", Dean returns clever.  
As Dean continues with his therapy she turns her head with a sigh and stares outside. She knows the hell hounds are still there. She can hear them, sneaking around the shed, waiting for her to come out. They've been doing so since Dean ran out on his kamikaze mission to get the satellite phone, apparently the pups are guessing they might pull off a stupid trick like that again. The pounding of the ball on the wall and floor is starting to drive her insane and draws her attention again. Her dark brown eyes stare to observe it's movements, as if she's examinating it. Then suddenly, as the little red ball bounces off the opposite wall from where Dean is sitting, it makes a sharp turn. Zoë holds up her right hand and catches it victoriously. Relieved by the silence she sighs and smiles. The oldest Winchester brother, who expected the return of his toy, stares at her staggered as he realizes what she just did.  
"Seriously, Zo! This is freaking me out!", he shouts pissed.

She giggles as she looks at the tiny ball in her hand. Strangely enough, she knows where he's coming from. The first time she got angry and broke a mirror about six weeks ago, she thought it might be spirit or an almost insensible vibration of the earth, considering she was in San Diego when it first happened. But when a full pint of beer broke in the hands of the guy who just cheated on her during poker, she started getting suspicious. The third time again a mirror was the victim, she remembers that moment precisely. Zoë rented a motelroom near Cherry Hill in New Jersey and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. If this were true, she figured that anger was the trigger to do the trick, so she got angry. It didn't take much, watching herself was quite enough to get disgusted and furious. Then, just like that, it broke. For about five minutes she kept staring into the mirror, seeing herself all deformed in the broken pieces, then she panicked. That was it, she couldn't make up excuses anymore. There wasn't an earthquake in San Diego and the guy didn't squeeze his glass too tight. She was doing this. After days of not looking at anything made out of glass, Zoë came to the conclusion that she should either deal with this, or go live in a cave. So she handled it and as it turns out, it's actually quite a nice trick. Especially when she figured out that this could be controlled and so she started training it. Eventually she didn't need anger anymore, just pure concentration. Her experience with the Johnny Walkers bottle in _Beetle's Bar_, down in Rochester Minnesota, was a totally new one though. She wanted that whiskey so badly, that it actually moved towards her, till it fell of the cill and broke into a million pieces. She didn't blew it up, she moved it. There is a big difference between a bottle which she moved only inches or slamming the door into the faces of a bunch of hell hounds, but apparently she's able to do much more than she though she would be capable of. Zoë opens her fist and lets the ball float above her hand. With a smile she looks at it; she's getting better. Dean's jaw almost drops as he watches her work the tiny object. How the hell is she doing that? How is this possible? Suddenly it's not threatening anymore, but gracious. It's amazing how she's able to have complete control over the ball, making it do whatever she wants. It just hovers in front of her, like an obedient dog who's waiting for his next command. With a gentle hand movement she sends it back to its owner. Slowly it crosses the room and starts dangling before Dean's face. Stunned he watches it, amazed by the phenomenon. Skeptically he moves his hand above the ball to feel if there are any strings attached, but there's nothing. Then he takes the ball in his hand and looks at the little red thing from every direction. Still not completely at ease, he glares at Zoë.  
"How on earth do you pull off this Yoda trick?", he asks cautious.  
"Dunno. I just concentrate on it and tell it what to do", Zo admits careless.  
"You 'just'? I can concentrate on this the hell I want, it ain't movin'", Dean brings to mind, hinting at the ball.  
"That's because I am a Jedi and you're not", she nags.  
"Well, may the force be with you. I don't need this crap", he huffs.

Zoë grins, but doesn't feel the same way. At first she was scared of this ability, together with the historical visions, but now that she embraced them as a part of her, she's fine with it. Her being able to do these things isn't bothering her, where it might come from is. Face it, it's not human. She's too afraid to say it out loud, but these 'powers' almost seem demonic. It's probably the reason why Dean doesn't like it one bit. Zoë looks over at him, but he wondered off with his thoughts. He has one leg stretched in front of him and is resting his arm on the knee of the other. She dares to guess what he's thinking about.  
"Worrying about Sam?", she asks.  
Dean wakes up from his thought and looks at her puzzled.  
"Why would I be?", he returns.  
"I just figured, with him having those visions and all", Zo replies.  
"Having weird dreams is something different than moving things with your mind", he notifies with a glare.  
"I don't think it is. I train it, Sam pretends it's not there", she responds rational. "Besides, it started out the same with me".  
Stunned Dean raises an eyebrow. "You had visions too?"  
"Not visions, flashbacks. I see the past", Zo corrects.  
Dean stares at her staggered. He's not sure what's more surprising, that she has flashbacks or that she just used the present simple, meaning that she still has them.  
"You still do?", he asks.  
"Yep, together with migraines and the feeling like I've been run over by a train", Zo answers.  
"That's utterly unhelpful. At least seeing the future sounds cool, but seeing the past is just lame", he comments on it.  
"You don't get it, do ya?", she chuckles, enjoying the fact that he doesn't. "History is the key to the future".  
"I'm not following, how can you change something if it already happened?", Dean points out.  
"I see what happened and can prevent it from happening again. It's what went on with the case in Paragould. I saw what the father did to Laura, you don't need to be an engineer to figure out I was dealing with a revenge taking ghost when her father died some time after she did herself", she explains.

"That's how you solved that so fast", Dean understands now.  
"With a little help", Zo adds up, thanking him indirectly.  
He smiles, so they did.  
"Yeah, we made a good team, the three of us", he has to admit.  
A pleasant silence follows, as they listen to the noises of nature outside. The wind is picking up, they can feel the draft through the cracks. The hell hounds are laying low for now, at least they keep quiet. The constant hauling and barking earlier made them both nervous, especially Zo.  
"So…", she starts out of the blue. "Why did you come out here?"  
Preventing a rain of questions she decides to turn tables. It works, although Dean doesn't answer with words. He takes his phone out of his pocket and tosses it towards her. With one hand she catches the small Samsung and opens the lid to reveal the display.  
"Inbox. Latest text", Dean instructs.  
She does as told and opens the message which was sent to him by his Dad. It contains only the word 'job' and a bunch of numbers.  
"Coordinates", she concludes. "No background info, no other leads, just coordinates".  
"You're starting to sound like Sam", Dean comments with a smirk. "But Dad has never been a man of many words".  
Zo agrees with a nod, but then she frowns as a subtle grin starts to show on her face.  
"You received a message from Erin?", Zo looks up. "Who's Erin?"  
Dean looks up and suddenly remembers the text conversation he had with the cute brunette from Waco. _Crap!_ He didn't empty his inbox yet. The things they discussed on those text messages after two nights together is not something he wants to share.

"Give me that", he demands, rushing over to retrieve his phone.  
"_Hi Dean_", she starts reading the text message with an exaggerated feminine voice. "_R U still in town? If so, my place 2night? I want 2lick your…_"  
Her eyes widen when she reads the end of that sentence, but than the person who it was meant for snatches the phone from her hand. Annoyed, but with an almost unnoticeable smile on his face he walks back to his side of the room where he settles on the floor again, from where he continues throwing the ball across the small space. Amused Zoë monitors his actions.  
"Still a womanizer as ever, I see", she comments with a grin.  
"You know me", Dean doesn't bother to disagree.  
"So, was Erin any good?", she pops the question without any sight of shame.  
A but surprised by that Dean looks up and stares into her eyes flabbergasted. Did she just ask him if the sex was alright?  
"I'm not gonna tell you that!", he huffs.  
"Oh come on, don't be such a baby. Or is that a guy thing, always bragging about how amazing the sex was?"  
Zoë glares at him with that look in her eyes; curious and very amused.  
"Yeah, it's a guy thing", he states.  
"Or is it that you don't wanna open up about your sexlife with other women to one you hit on?", she rephrases victoriously.  
She slams the nail right on the head, because the staggered look on Dean's face says more than a thousand words. And men think they are so mysterious.  
"I don't hit on you!", he cries out defensive.  
"Oh, you were so into me back then", she says certain.  
Dean knows that she's talking about the time that he and his father were working her case. He has to admit, although he doesn't want to right now, that he was hoping for a little fun that weekend at the California coast. When he first saw the 19 year old, she blew him off his feet, but he was disappointed soon after when he met her boyfriend, who she was disgustingly in love with. Funny enough he was attracted to her when she was still this normal sweet surf chick from med school, but now that she's a kick ass hunter infiltrated into the supernatural world, bossing him around like she's God himself, that feeling disappeared instantly.  
He sighs reluctantly while he catches the rubber ball and throws it again. "Maybe so. But I hope you're not presuming I still am".

"You're not?", Zoë pretends to be surprised and disappointed with a cynical tone.  
"Cute", Dean comments on her face.  
"And why this change of heart?", she asks, daring and amused.  
"Face it: You're a bitch", he brings to her as it is.  
"Thank you", she replies proudly and not even a bit insulted. "But you have to admit, you're not really Mr. Nice Guy either".  
"I'm actually quite charming when it comes to the ladies", Dean initiates.  
Zoë chuckles and clears her throat sarcastically. "Yeah, I noticed".  
"I said with the ladies, not with the brats", he corrects smartly.  
The little red ball which just came bouncing off the wall again suddenly gains speed and hits Dean in the head. He lets out a loud startled groan and stares at the object hopping away from him over the floor and then glares at Zo, who is almost unable to breathe of laughter. Despite her injury, she can't help it but to roll on her side and laugh out loud. Tears run down her cheeks as she does her best to get a decent sentence out.  
"Holy crap! That was priceless!", she ridicules.  
She wouldn't give a damn if she turns demon because of these abilities, she LOVES them. That was epic!  
"So not funny", Dean mumbles, rubbing the spot on his forehead where the ball hit him.  
His glare is answered with another burst of laughter, but she quickly gets herself together.  
"Oh come on, Dean. Can't I have a little fun before I die?", she chuckles.  
"You're not gonna die", he clarifies.  
Zoë huffs and looks away, amused by his positive view on the world, even in the worst situation.

"I hate to bring it to ya, but we are locked inside a cabin on a mountain in the middle of nowhere with very little food and water and… oh right! There are a bunch of hell hounds waiting on our doorstep ready to shred me to pieces", she notifies cynical, as if he wasn't aware of that.  
"Aren't you a bucket of sunshine", he comments.  
"I was a moment ago", she grins, aiming for the prank she just pulled off on him. "I'm not a pessimist, Dean. I'm a realist".  
"I don't care what you are. Sam is on his way and he will get us out", he ensures, trusting his brother.  
"And then what? He can't keep me safe from these creatures, neither can you. I checked everything, there's just no way", she sighs, getting slightly depressed for good reason.  
Dean keeps looking at her, but doesn't respond. He's trying to keep faith, but when Zo brings it like this, it starts to sink in that getting these hell hounds of her back, might be an impossible task. She's a smart girl, she got a full ride for UCLA. If Zoë says she looked under every stone, she did. Even though she seems careless when it comes to danger, she doesn't want to go to hell. He saw her response when she faced those damn pit bulls; she was scared, terrified even. Zoë Sullivan was terrified, hell… he even was. When he saw those red eyes glowing up from the dark, he didn't saw eyes, he saw the flames of hell. Right there he came to the understanding that the road that leads to death is only one path, but there's a different exit to take for those who make a deal with the devil. The weak ones, the people who are not willing to take the hard way to achieve what they want. For a moment he observes the young woman. Her facial expression is sad and her eyes are shallow as she stares at the door pondering. This woman, who fights everyone's worse nightmares, who faces death on daily base, made a deal. She is the last person on earth he could imagine doing something like that, taking the easy way out without reading between the lines. Then there's the other question; what did she get in return? Money? Her powers? He doesn't get it, he just doesn't.  
"Why did you do it?", he asks her out of the blue.  
Zoë turns to him. He doesn't need to be specific, she knows what he's talking about. Although she doesn't intend to answer his question and sets in the ignore mode as she did when he started firing questions at her earlier, but then it hits her. This might be her last chance to have a deep conversation, to speak up or pass something on before it's too late. Besides, Dean got himself into this mess too, thanks to her and a little 'help' from John. She has to clear up a few things, she owes him that much. Before she starts talking, she opens her jacket and takes a pack of cigarettes from her inner pocket. Surprised Dean watches how she takes out her lighter as well as she opens the pack and takes one out. "You smoke?", he asks dazed.  
"Only when I'm out of stressed and out of comfort food", she replies.

Casual she holds the cigarette between her lips and protects the lighter´s flame by cupping her hand around it as she lights the end. She removes her hand, closes her eyes and inhales, lighting up the red ashes. Dean can see she really needed one, because she lets out a satisfied sigh when the nicotine is absorbed by her lungs. This isn't the first time she smokes, the way she lights it, the way she has the cigarette between her fingers as she removes it from her mouth and breathes out the smoke. Without using words she offers him one of hers.  
"I don't smoke, apparently it kills ya", Dean rejects.  
Zoë chuckles as she places hers on her mouth. "And our job doesn't?"  
"Good point", Dean realizes, but he doesn't take it.  
Quietly Zo puts her pack away and stares ahead. His question is raging through her head and she's trying to figure out how to answer it best. Dean somehow sees that and doesn't push the question on her. After a silence that seems to take ages, Zoë finally starts to talk.  
"Because I was desperate", she claims.  
She doesn't look at him, she can't. She's ashamed for the fact that she has to explain herself to him, but she doesn't regret what she did. Her only company follows with another question.  
"What did you make a deal for, Zo? What on earth was possibly worth your soul?", he asks, unable to understand how she could give up something like that.  
She swallows apprehensively; this is gonna be a shocker.  
"My father's life".  
Speechless he stares at her. What did she just say? Dean remembers well what happened to Mr. Sullivan, it wasn't a pleasant sight. A little over five years ago, after a day of shopping on Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles California, Zoë returned home and found her father alone. Somewhere in the big city she got possessed by something called a Diligo Vesco demon. A nasty son of a bitch, which feeds on the loved ones of its victim. It only manifests when the victim truly loves some one, and Zo sure loved her Dad. In a flick of a switch the demon took over and instantly killed Mr. Sullivan, after whichitreturned into its hide out, leaving Zoë in distress over the corpse of her father. She saw the killing through her own eyes and lived through the whole deal, but she wasn't able to control her own body until the job was done. As everyone would do, she panicked and called her sister. The eldest sis Abigail, knew exactly what to do; she called John Winchester. Dean remembers when his father received her call. They had just finished a case up in Sacramento and were on the road looking for something new, but they didn't expect to find it so soon. He remembers the strange expression on his Dad's face when he heard what happened. Dean could tell that he knew the Sullivans, by the informal way he talked to her.

"Abby, calm down. Are you sure?", John asked a bit perplexed himself, holding the phone to his ear while he was drove the Impala.  
It didn't matter that Zoë's sister wasn't on speaker, she was shouting so loud that Dean could hear her from the passenger seat.  
"She just called me, John. She snapped out of it or something, I don't know. I'm going over there right now!"  
"You can't just rush in! If she's still possessed you'll get yourself killed!", John brought to mind.  
"I told her to lay out a circle of salt and sit down in stay in it till I get there, I know what I'm doing".  
"Good, bring some holy water to be sure. I'm just outside Bakersfield right now, I'll be over in two hours", he promised.  
"Okay…", Abby confirmed with devastated voice.  
"Abigail, I'm so sorry", John let her know.  
"Please, hurry up".  
With those words she hung up after which Dean's father slammed the wheel in frustration.  
"What was that all about?", he remembers asking.  
"A old friend of mine just got killed by a demon", John replied, still confused by what he just heard.  
"A hunter?", he wanted to know.  
"He use to be, he stepped out of the bizz after his first daughter was born. He taught me a few things", John answered.  
Dean sighs as he snaps back to reality. He was dead, as dead as can be. But Zo is actually telling him that her father is alive? Completely stunned he stares at the young woman, in who's eyes tears start to appear.

"So… you're Dad came back from the dead and you got, what? A few years?", Dean questions.  
"Five", she corrects.  
"You figured out about dealing demons fast then", Dean comments carefully.  
"Dad and Abs left me a locker which I was only allowed to open if something bad happened. I thought this would be the propitiate time to do so", Zoë explains. "It contained about everything I needed to know about the supernatural. Books, pendants, all kinds of weeds and spices, weapons, everything. So after you two left, I started studying".  
He listens carefully without interrupting her. It's strange how calm she remains, she's probably blocking out everything. The only sign of emotion is the almost unnoticeable tear, clinching to her eyelashes. She sits up straight and continues her confession.  
"Then I learned about the crossroad demon. It was the first thing that popped up in my head. All I had to do is burry a tin box containing a bit of graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, a picture of myself and some other stuff in the center of a crossroad and I was ready to make a pact. I could get Dad back", she smiles for a brief moment.  
"I reckon the demon showed up", Dean presumes, considering the current situation that they are in.  
"Yep, but instead of ten years, I got five. The demon claimed he couldn't bring a soul of a former hunter back for the average price", she tells as the tear finally drops down her cheek.  
"I just wanted him home so bad. Abs left hours after you did and I wanted my family back together.I thought…", she takes a breath, fighting her emotions, then she continues. "I thought that if I could bring him back, everything would be alright".  
Tears run down her face, but she keeps struggling. Her cigarette, which she's almost finished with, shakes because of her trembling hands.  
"But it didn't, did it?", Dean realizes.  
"No, I never saw him or Abby again. Everything changed after that and it won't ever be the same. When you know…"  
"You can never go back", he finishes.

Dean gets up and intends to settle down next to her, but Zoë lets him know she doesn't want him to with a glare.  
"I don't want your sympathy, Dean", she objects.  
"Zo, give yourself a break here. You've been through hell", he insists.  
"No, I haven't. I'm going to though", Zoë comments cynical.  
He doesn't listen to her and sits down next to the young woman and leans against the wall. He normally isn't really good at this. Sam is always the one who does the comforting and hugging, but right now he feels so sorry for her that his hand gently intends to rub her shoulder. But she holds him off with a shrug, shaking her head while she does.  
"Don't", she warns shivering. "I can't break. I never did and I will not now".  
Her piercing brown eyes stare into his, it almost scares him. He sees so much pain and sorrow inside of them, so much he recognizes yet doesn't understand. He thought he had it bad, his mother dead and Sam and Dad gone. But Zoë, she's on a whole other level. She actually saw her father die, as she said; she had his blood on her hands, literally. Her sister Abigail disappeared from the face of the earth and he doesn't even know the story of her mother. Zoë Sullivan is completely alone. He himself is going nuts after three days without his brother, she's going through life without anyone by her side.  
"You see, Dean? Now you understand why I'm careless? Why I don't give a damn if I live or die?"  
He swallows apprehensively, but then he can't look at her anymore.  
"There's no one to stay for, there's no one left", she cries. "To be honest, sometimes I wish I'd just die, during a hunt or something. I rather be dead, I already am inside anyway".  
Devastated she rubs her face and forks her fingers through her brown hair. Her eyes shimmer as tears mixed with mascara leave dark trails on her cheeks.  
"I just don't wanna go to hell, not after what I did", she whispers with difficulty. "I just wanna die".  
And all this time, all what Dean can do is stare at her and listen. So this is her, this is Zoë. All the smart comments, the clever remarks and corky answers, it's just a mask. Underneath it all it's still the girl from California, who got caught up in this big pile of mess. The pain he sees is unlike he has ever seen before, the pure sorrow and self hatred, he didn't know a human being could feel like this. Despite that his conscience tells him to do so, he doesn't lays his arm around her, simply because she asked him not to. He doesn't want to break her, as she said: _not now_. And so they just sit there. He looks at her, Zoë stares at the wall. She can't speak anymore, nor can she cry. It amazes her that she's able to shed a tear every time she feels like this, because honestly, she thought she ran out of tears a long time ago.


	10. Chapter 10

Darrington, Washington  
Present Day

It's late at night when noises wake Zoë. Still a bit drowsy she lifts her head of Dean's chest, who she fell asleep against. It's dark in the cabin, the burned up blackened lumps of wood in the fireplace still shimmer a red light through the room. Snow shoots sideways passed the windows and the wind hauls around the hunters cabin as if nature is trying to scare her. She turns her head and looks at Dean for a moment, who's still sleeping. It seems like they both finally found the rest to get some sleep. Still tired Zoë checks her watch; it's three O' clock in the morning. Carefully without waking him, she straightens her back and gets on her feet. Her leg still hurts pretty bad, but she can manage and limps to the window as she folds her arms around her body. It's cold, her breath turns to little white clouds when she breathes out. By the window she halts and stares outside. There's no moonlight, just darkness. A wall of snow is coming down and tree tops bend in the strong northern wind. For a moment she observes the powerful forces of nature as she wonders off. She hopes Sam is well on his way with a solution to this mess. They are running out of supplies and the weather is getting worse by the hour. It's not even safe to go out right now, with or without hellhounds on their tail. A shiver runs down her spine, but it's not from the low temperatures. She has the feeling like she's being watched, a feeling she had for quite a while now. Suddenly, out of nowhere, everything stops. The wind stops blowing, the snow stops falling and the entire forest goes silent. Zoë watches it happen with wide open eyes. In a split second the fierce and roaring nature drops dead. The complete silence that follows is unnatural and honestly, it scares the crap out of her. Then Zoë notices something on the window. Humid on the glass freezes up at the sills, forming little ice crystals on the inside of the window. It turns ice cold in the room, even colder than a minute before. Only pure evil can do this, she's not alone. In a rapid action she draws her gun from her belt and turns around, aiming the gun at a shadow by the backdoor. Slowly the man steps forward until the gloomy light from the fire catches his face. It's a man somewhere in his early fifties. He looks like a normal human being, short grey hair, an expressive face. But there's something about his appearance that makes him look much more powerful than a human could ever be.  
"Howdy Zoë", he smiles gentle.

"I don't know how the hell you got in, but you better get your ass out again", Zoë warns, keeping the gun on him.  
"Not even a nice 'hello' back?", he tusks disappointed as he steps closer.  
"Stay where you are or I'll kill you, I swear", she threatens, stepping back to the window herself.  
"Ooh, that would be a neat trick", he says with a false grin on his face.  
Even though he's not intimidated by her he stops, leaving a few feet between the two of them. With steel nerves she remains on her place with the gun at the man. Her hands don't even shake, she seems completely calm, but inside she's restless.  
"I know what you are", she claims.  
"Is that so? Than why are you pointing a gun at me?", he replies.  
"Who says this gun is loaded with bullets?", Zoë bounces back smartly.  
"Believe me, whatever you are planning to fire at me, it won't even hurt", he grins.  
Zoë's heart is pounding in her throat, but she won't show him fear. What she is up against, what she is facing right now, is a demon. One that got passed the salt, past the goofer dust and the devil's trap she spray painted on the ceiling. In other words, she's even more screwed than she was before this son of a bitch showed up. Defeated, but without looking away, she lowers her gun; it won't do her no good anyway.  
"That's a good girl", he says rewarding, as if she's some kind of pet.  
"Who are you?", she asks with lowered voice, but firmly.

He looks her in the eye without answering, then his irises change. Zoë has seen a demons before, their pitch black eyes which seem to have to bottom, but this one is completely different. Instead of pure darkness, the irises turn yellow. Stunned she looks him in the eye as her jaw drops. This is unlike anything she has ever seen before.  
"What, black's not your color?", she huffs sharp.  
"Black isn't a color actually, it's the absence of color", he acquires.  
"Aren't you a smartass", Zoë comments annoyed.  
The yellow eyed demon smirks and looks away; apparently he likes her attitude.  
"You have quite a big mouth for a human, know that?", he notifies.  
"I've heard it before", she admits.  
He halts and seems to enjoy himself, for a moment he glances at Dean, who's sleeping through the entire thing. Zoë grinds, she wants to distract him, get his mind off of Dean. She doesn't really care if she herself dies or not, but Dean doesn't deserve the same destiny.  
"You're gonna kill me, aren't you?", she questions out of the blue.  
It works, the demon turns around to face her. His yellow eyes shimmer in the dim light of the fire. It scares her, but she doesn't show it.  
"Me? Why would I do such a thing?", he strolls to the other side of the room, keeping the same distance between them.  
"What do you think?", she bounces back cynical.  
"You mean what you did to my employee in the back? That was quite entertaining actually. Especially when you poured holy water all over him", he grins satisfied. "Yes, Zoë. You are capable of great things".  
"What the hell are you talking about?",she questions arrogant, as she start to step sideways.

The both of them circle around each other like predators, waiting for the other to make the first move. Zoë is alert and tensed while the yellow eyed demon casually carries his hands on his back.  
"I know what you can do, Zoë. First the flashbacks, then the ability to break objects and now you can make them do whatever you want", he says.  
Zo's eyes widen, how does he know all this? Has he been following her? Was he there all along?  
"I have to admit, what you did with that rubber ball, that takes skill. You're good", he claps his hands twice as a sign of appreciation.  
For a moment it seems like Zoë is struck by lightning, but she recovers so fast that the demon opposite of her doesn't even notice that he caught her off guard.  
"Thanks, you can get your autograph after the show", she says with a tone.  
The demon laughs out loud as he looks up, amused by her rapid answers.  
"That's what I like about you, know that. The smart talk, the arrogance. You're careless, you don't give a damn if you live or die. But hell, that's a whole other story", he comments as he reads her.  
"You know about hell?", Zoë asks alert, but curious.  
"Where do you think I came from, sweety", he grins. "But I can tell you; it's not a nice place for girls like you".  
"It can't be much worse than up here", Zo comments as she halts by the door.  
"Compared to hell, this is living the dream", the demon states.  
He keeps walking until he ends up next to her, but Zoë doesn't flinch and follows him with her eyes.  
"You think you deserve this, don't ya? This painful ending, the start of your very own true horror story", he questions.

"Maybe", Zo answers vague.  
"I tell you what, you don't deserve it. You deserve much better than what's waiting down there. You deserve fame, power, leadership", he continues.  
The demon halts in front of her and has to look slightly down to seek what's in her eyes. Arrogant she looks back and anyone can see from her face that she's not buying his crap.  
"Not interested", she lets him know.  
"It's such a shame, Zoë. You can achieve so much. You're not ready to go down the pit", he sighs, seeming to be disappointed as he walks away. "With you in for it, we could have so much fun".  
"In for what?", she asks firmly.  
"The big show, Zoë. You and all the other children like you", he turns back at her and looks deep into her eyes.  
Zoë swallows almost unnoticeable as the information she's receiving here start to evolve an image in her head. She has been wondering about this for some time now, now she has her answer. She and Sam are not the only one.  
"I'm not the only one who can do this things?", she keeps dumb.  
"Don't play games with me, Sullivan", his facial expression suddenly changes. "I know that you and Sammy boy have worked together".  
Zoë keeps her mouth shut, but her insolent glare still stares straight into his eyes. So he knows about her powers, he knows about Sam's. What else does he know?  
"I'm glad to see the two of you, it's good that you get along. You and him are the perfect team, you two are my favorites", he lets her know with a mean grin.  
Zo doesn't respond to that, she feels like she's short in words. It's not often that she doesn't know how to react, but this is one of those rare moment. One thing is certain; she doesn't like the sound of this for one bit. The demon looks outside, where the weather conditions are still exceptionally quiet. Zoë glares over his shoulder as shivers run down her spine. Then she hears it, the haul of the hellhound.  
"Looks like your friends are gathering, Zoë", the yellow eyed demon notices.

He heart starts pounding faster as the hauling echoes through the silence. The dogs scare her more than the demon does, and this time she can't keep it inside. Nervous she glances from one window to the other as the yellow eyed demon observes her. Then Zoë gasps for air; outside, several pair of red eyes glare at her from the dark forest. They growl low as they slowly approach.  
"You did your research well", the demon starts to talk as Zoë backs out from the sight of the hellhounds until she's against the wall. "There is no way to kill an unleashed hellhound, you can't make them leave. The moment you see them, you will go down. You can't run forever".  
"Tell me something I don't know", she shudders while staring at the creatures outside.  
They come loose from the shadow of the mountain and sneak up on the wooden cabin as a lion does just before it jumps its pray.  
"I can call them back".  
Zoë's gaze shifts from the hellhounds to the demon, what did he just say? Did he just tell her that there's a way out.  
"How?", she asks stern and cautious.  
He snaps his fingers. "Just like that. If you want me to, at least".  
She looks over from him to the demonic dogs outside, as they approach the porch. They are coming awfully close. It's a tempting offer, but she's no simpleton.  
"I suppose you want me to do something in return?", she guesses.  
"Bright little girl", he smiles as he steps away from the window.  
One part of her screams 'no' so loud that she can barely hear the other side talking. It's a demon for God's sake! She made a deal once and look how that turned out. Sure she got what she wished for, but she would be nuts to make another deal to stop a deal. It's insane! But she can't be sure. What if what he wants in return isn't that much of a effort? What if it's actually worth a shot?

"And what would that be?", she questions.  
A short silence, only the growling from outside can be heard as a reminder that time is running out. The demon has a evil smirk on his face as his yellow eyes pierce her.  
"I want you to kill Dean Winchester".  
Zoë's jaw drops as she glances aside at Dean for a short moment. He's still against the wall passed out, as if he's in some parallel world where he can't hear them. Stunned she stares the yellow eyed demon in the eye as anger starts to take over.  
"No!", she states without hesitation.  
"Oh, come on", the demon laughs. "He's a jack ass anyway. He always tries to outrun you, being as childish as he is. Be honest with yourself; you barely know the guy".  
"I don't care who you'd ask me to kill!", Zoë snaps.  
"Is that so? What about John?", he confronts. "I'd bet you'd be able to kill him without even flinching".  
Right there with that comment he shuts her up. Overruled she looks back at him, unable to respond on that. The worse part is; he's right.  
"You can do this. Sam is way too close to his brother to pull the trigger, no matter what I offer him, but you… you are capable of killing under the right circumstances", the demon adds.  
"I will not kill him", Zo states determined. "I don't care what you offer me, I will not kill him".  
For a moment he waits for a change on her face, but Zoë isn't going to change her mind. He huffs disappointed yet amused and looks down at the floor.  
"Still too good hearted, that's what I was afraid off".  
The demon looks up with a weird look in his eyes. An evil smile appears on his face as his yellow eyes shimmer in the dim light.  
"That's why I already did the job for you", he finishes.  
Stunned Zoë's eyes widen. Afraid of what she will see, she slowly lets her gaze glide over to Dean. He's still against the wall, his eyes closed and his head slightly turned away. But it's just now that she detects the small stream of blood coming from his nose and lips.

"DEAN!", she shouts out loud as she shoot towards him.  
Quickly she kneels down next to him and cups his face in her hands. His cheeks feel cold as ice and his lips have turned blue. Panicking she checks his pulse, but there's nothing.  
"Don't you dare, you bastard!", she curses.  
For a moment there she has a slight bit of hope and attempts to get his heart rhythm back, but when she pulls away his leather jacket, she finds a rusty old knife in his chest, right on his aorta, right on his heart. Shocked she stares at the injury.  
"No no no, this isn't happening…", she stammers.  
Then she looks up at his face, which gives her a confirmation. Upset she covers her mouth in disbelief. She can't believe it, but he's actually dead. Not knowing what to do or how to deal with this, she backs out. Then anger and frustration takes over.  
"How could you do this", she spits and grinds her teeth, before she looks up. "You SON OF A BITCH! How could you!"  
Furious she turns around to face the yellow eyed demon, but when she does, the room is empty. Heavily breathing she gets up and looks outside. But the dick is gone, he vanished into thin air. Confused and overwhelmed by what's happening, she forks her fingers through her air and stares at Dean's dead body. What the hell is she going to do? Dean's dead, DEAD! He's got killed because of HER! Another one got killed because of her! She needs to tell Sam, but there's no way she can. Poor Sam, poor John, this is all her damn fault! Desperately she tries to calm down with her hands behind her head as she paces through the room. Why the HELL is this happening? Then a strange sound from above stops her. As she keeps still, Zoë stares up at the ceiling. Scratches can be heard from the roof, the sound of nails. Just before Zoë detects the broken line of goofer dust in front of the fire place, a roar of barking hellhounds echoes through the chimney. Staggered she falls backwards on the floor and crawls away until she's up against the wall, but then three enormous black dogs appear from the flared up flames. Without hesitation they approach her so fast that escaping is impossible. Then they jump her and she lets out one last scream.


	11. Chapter 11

"DEAN!"  
With a gasp for air she rises up. Upset she tries to catch her breath, still in complete shock.  
"You've been with me for two days and you already scream my name while you're sleeping?"  
Stunned by the sound of his voice she looks over her shoulder and stares into Dean's green eyes. He has a playful smile on his face, clearly he doesn't have a clue what's she just went through. Instantly she glances at his chest, but there's not a drop of blood to be seen. Still struck Zoë watches him for a moment, then looks away while she lets out a sigh of relief; it was just a dream.  
"Seriously, you look like you just saw a hellhound", Dean states, as the expression 'as if you just saw a ghost' doesn't really appeal to them anymore.  
"I did", she confirms nervous.  
Concerned she tries to get up, but her leg is anything but cooperative. Determined she gets up anyway and scans the room. Surprisingly enough, the fireplace where through the hellhounds came, isn't even there. She all imagined it, or was her dream more than that? Puzzled Dean follows her with his eyes.  
"What time is it?", Zo wonders.  
Dean checks his watch, "3 PM".  
"September 27nd, right?", she checks.  
"No, September 28th. Are you alright?", he asks carefully.  
"Yeah, I'm fine", she lies, pretending that it's nothing.

A moment later the satellite phone rings before Dean can continue questioning. He realizes it's must be Sam. As the phone rings, Zoë ponders about her nightmare. Her dream must have taken place last night, she doesn't remember waking up afterwards. So everything in that dream didn't actually happen? It felt so real, even more real than her flashbacks. She have could sworn she had that conversation with that demon. While she dwells in her thoughts, Dean picks up the phone from the floor and answers the call.  
"Y' hello?"  
"How you holdin' up?"  
It is indeed Sam on the other end of the line. Dean's glad to hear his voice.  
"We're okay, that storm is pretty bad huh?", he comments as he glances out side.  
He can see the snow passing by the window like bullets instead of humble snowflakes. The wind forces the trees to bow.  
"Yeah, it is. I'm stuck", he says pissed off.  
Unpleasantly surprised Dean turns to face Zoë, she can read from his face that something's wrong.  
"How do you mean, stuck?"  
"They blocked the Arlington-Darrington road, Dean. It's the only road to the valley. The snow has reached lower grounds and no one can get in or out", he notifies mad.  
"Ah, come on!", Dean cries out frustrated.  
"What's wrong?", Zoë asks as she keeps staring outside the window with her arms crossed in front of her.  
"Road's blocked", Dean informs her shortly.  
"Can't you put me on speaker? I need to talk to Zo", Sam requests.

Dean removes the phone from his ear and presses the speaker button, after which he places the phone on the floor.  
"She's all yours", he states.  
"Zoë, I did some research on this whole hellhound business", the youngest Winchester brother tells her. "You're right, there's no way to kill them".  
Normally she's glad with recognition, but this is not what she wanted to hear. With a sigh she turns around to glare at Dean, but then jumps back startled. His face, which is pale as a corpse, flickers to different positions as he opens his mouth to make a screeching and terrifying sound. His eyes have sunk deep into their sockets while his eyes are white as those of a blind man. Horrified she stumbles back till she hits the wall, but when she closes her eyes for a moment and opens them again, all she sees is the handsome guy that he is. Puzzled he stares at her with his eyebrows lifted.  
"You sure you're alright?", he checks cautious.  
"You're face…", she stammers. "A moment ago it was…"  
Unable to finish her sentence she looks away as she tries to catch her breath. Sam, who by the sounds seems to realize what is going on, jumps in.  
"You're hallucinating, Zoë".  
"You think?", she replies sarcastically.  
"There have been reports of this, people who get close to their deadline start to have these disillusions of what they will face downstairs", he explains without losing his temper.  
Zoë rubs her face and lets out a sigh; this is getting weirder and weirder.  
"What else you've got?", she questions.  
"Well, like I said, we can't kill them. But there is a way to get you off the hook", he tells her.  
For a moment Zoë glances at Dean, who's still set down on the ground. It startles her when she realizes that they are both on the exact same spot as they were when the Yellow Eyed Demon's made her the offer.  
"_Kill him".  
_

"What did you say?", Zo asks puzzled.  
Dean looks at her confused. "I didn't say anything".  
Then again she hears it the words, this time she recognizes the voice; it's the demon.  
"_Kill Dean Winchester".  
_While grinding her teeth she closes her eyes and blocks out the voice. What the hell is that son of a bitch thinking? That she's actually gonna listen to him? As anger boils up she looks Dean in the eye, but doesn't flinch.  
"Everything okay there?", Sam asks.  
Dean gives her a look, he is wondering the same thing. But Zoë shakes her head to tell him that this is not the right time to talk.  
"Yeah, we're fine", Dean lies. "So how can we get her out of this deal?"  
"By killing the demon that holds her contract", Sam tells.  
"You think I'm that bad of a researcher, Sam?", Zo comments annoyed. "He's already dead".  
"He is?"  
"Quite sure, Sammy", Dean backs her up.  
"Then how the hell…?"  
"He unleashed his hellhounds before I exorcised him", Zoë answers before he can even finish the sentence.  
For a moment Sam keeps still as he thinks through her words.  
"That's why Dean saw it too", the youngest of the brothers realizes. "They're like heat seeking missiles, they kill anything they run into".  
"But they focus on Zoë when we're together", Dean brings to mind. "When they were chasing us down the mountain at midnight, I didn't see them. Not until I walked out alone to get the satellite phone".

"So let me get this straight. As long as he's with me, he's safe?", Zoë questions stunned.  
"Yep, they won't harm him", Sam confirms.  
"So we're back on square one?", Dean sighs.  
"Not exactly. I've called a few hunters. No one knew about hell hounds, but do you remember Caleb?"  
Dean does actually. "Sure, friend of Dad's".  
"John has friends?", Zoë asks out loud cynical after which she receives a glare from the eldest brother.  
"He mentioned a guy named Singer. Apparently he's a very experienced hunter, he might know something", Sam notifies. "You have Dad's journal?"  
Zoë watches how Dean takes the old leather notebook out of his jacket and leafs through it. When he finds a list of hunters, he stops.  
"Singer you said?", Dean checks.  
"Yeah".  
"714 960 2323", Dean reads out loud.  
"Thanks, I'll give him a call", Sam promises.  
Sam hangs up, causing the disconnected tone to sound through the room. His elderly brother picks up the phone and presses the red button. His gaze glides up to Zoë, who he stares at with a cautious but stern look.  
"What the hell is going on with you?", he wants to know.  
Zoë shakes her head and takes a breath.  
"It's nothing, just… the nightmare and the hallucinations. I think it's getting to me", she admits.  
She limps towards him and sits down against the wall. Desperately hoping for the voice to go away, she presses her hand on her ears and closes her eyes.  
"_He has to die. You are the one who can do it. You are special, Zoë".  
_

"What was it about?", Dean asks.  
"What?", Zoë recalls confused.  
"Your dream, what was it about?", he repeats patiently.  
"About demons and hellhounds and… we died", she says shortly, not specifying over Dean's actual cause of death.  
"That better not be a vision then", he comments.  
"No, it wasn't. I never had premonitions, only flashbacks. Besides, this was as clear as a bell, the flashbacks are always blurry", Zoë claims.  
With shaking hands she grabs her pack of cigarettes and takes one out to light up. She inhales deeply the first time, then she lets the smoke slide out over her lips again. The nicotine helps her relax a bit, but the voice keeps haunting her.  
"_You are my favorite, Zoë. Kill him".  
_For a second she looks aside at the guy who the demon wants dead desperately. He tries to seek what on earth is going on in that head of hers, but it's all so unclear. All he can see is that's she's hurting. Tears form in her eyes, but they don't role down her cheeks yet, she's too strong for that. Brave she keeps fighting the urge that's put on her from the outside to listen to the bastard. She turns away from him and tries to concentrate. In order to drive it out, she imagines a shield around her as she clears her mind. When she opens her eyes again, the voice is gone. Relieved she rests her head against the wall and glances aside. For all this time Dean kept observing her with a questioning look upon his face.  
"Trust me, you don't wanna know", she sighs.  
He doesn't respond with a smart answer, but keeps silent for a moment. He notices her trembling and hands her a thin blanket that was also in David's back pack. With some resistance she takes the blanket and covers her body with it in order to keep warm. Now that she has calmed down a bit and stares at the door absently, Dean dares to let out a few comforting words.  
"It will be okay, Zo. We'll get you out", he assures.

She huffs, but doesn't answer. He's such a positive guy, so naïve. Tired out by stress and confusion she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes for a brief moment. A bit overwhelmed Dean looks down at her, not sure how to respond to this. Zoë opening up to him is one thing, but now she's actually searching for a little affection? Yet he doesn't see any harm in it, so he relaxes and lets her rest against him. Although she acts like a tough chick, deep inside she's probably lonely. She left home five years ago and hasn't stopped hunting ever since. Traveling around the country, never staying in a town longer than two weeks, it shuts you off. He himself can deal with that pretty well, he has always been a fan of his freedom. But Zoë is more like Sam on that area, she had a long lasting relationship with someone, a person she truly loved. Pondering he stares outside the window, where nature shows her fury. He can't help but wonder if Sam will get through to them or not. One way or the other, he's not going to leave her to be dragged down to hell. He risks his life for innocents every day, why should today be any different? In the last couple of days he got to spend with her, his respect for the young woman gained. She's not just the hunterbitch to him anymore like he saw her before. Maybe this is the side that Sam likes so much, the girl that Sam secretively feels attracted to. And yes, Zoë Sullivan can be an unbelievable pain in the ass, with her smart answers and arrogance. But every time that she will put on that mask again, he will know what's underneath. A girl that has way too much weight on her shoulders, a girl that is drowning in an ocean of unbearable history.


	12. Chapter 12

"Thanks Mr. Singer", Sam sighs gladly and can't help but to smile grateful.  
"No worries, but stop calling me Mr. Singer. It makes me feel old", the voice on the other side sounds gentle, yet mocking at the same time.  
Sam grins and apologizes. He has been on the phone with Bobby Singer for over thirty minutes and he seems like a really nice man. Not the type you'd expect to be a hunter. Yet he is and Sam is damn glad about that, because he just gave them the final answer to their big question.  
"I really appreciate it, Bobby", he says truthfully.  
"Hey, when John's boys need a helping hand, they'll get it", the older man finds it no problem at all. "You think you can find everything you need?"  
"I think so", the youngest Winchester brother confirms.  
"Good. Well, good luck then", Bobby wishes him. "What the hell is that sound by the way?"  
"Oh that? That's a snowcat", Sam explains, realizing the loud roar of the engine must be noticeable.  
Sam is dressed in an orange work overall, wearing a warm coat over it. He's several feet from the floor in the drivers seat of a enormous yellow Timberline snowcat, which are normally used to prepare the slopes for skiing. But Sam has a much better use for it right now, because this vehicle is the only one that has free access to the shut out town of Darrington. So he dumped his precious Chrysler Crossfire Roadster, and yes, again stole his transportation.  
"Do I wanna know?", Bobby laughs sarcastically.  
"I doubt it", Sam admits.

"This is not to save your own ass, I hope?", he questions anyway.  
"No, it's for a case we're working on", Sam answers quickly, feeling bad about the little lie.  
It's not a complete lie though, Dad did sent Dean on a hunt. That he got too involved is another story, but in a strange and dysfunctional way, it's still a case.  
"Be safe, John would kill me if anything happens to you from my lead. How is he, by the way? Haven't heard from him in years", Bobby asks curious.  
"Ehm… he's busy", Sam says shortly and uncomfortable. "Hey Bobby, I'd love to chat, but I'm a bit short on time".  
"That's fine, boy. Tell him to give me a call when you see him", he requests.  
"I will",Sam promises. "Thanks for the help",  
He disconnects but doesn't put his phone away in his pocket. A bit nervous he drives the slow but powerful vehicle up the road as he passes a 'Entering Darrington' sign. The windshield wipers shoot up and down the windows, scraping off the snow every time they go by. It's pitch black outside, Sam can't even see the mountains. The snow comes down with buckets at a time and it's a good thing these monster machines are made for these kind of circumstances, because with that sports car, he would have stranded a while back. The vehicle's headlights reflect the snowflakes falling down in front of him, it's like driving through a thick fog. Quickly he dials the satellite phonenumber and presses the green button. It rings one time before Dean picks up.  
"What the hell is taking you so long?"  
"I'm in Darrington", Sam says with calm voice.  
"It's about freakin' time!", Zoë shouts in the background.  
Sam rolls his eyes; so much for their appreciation towards him. Apparently he's on speaker phone, because Zoë heard his statement loud and clear.

"You really need to hurry up, Sam, she's losin' it", Dean notifies with lowered voice.  
"I'm driving as fast as this thing can, but you can stop worrying", Sam states satisfied. "I found a way to get the hellhounds off her back".  
"What?", Zoë asks stunned.  
"How?", Dean follows rapid.  
"Zoë, the demon that you killed, where is he?", Sam asks directly.  
"The bastard went down south, but his meat suit is still hanging out in the back room", she states cynical.  
"Good, I also need to know exactly where you made your deal", the youngest Winchester continues.  
"At a crossroad just out of Darrington, why?", she wonders.  
"Streetnames?"  
"Uh, it's where Giles crosses Powerline Road. It's an old dirt road on the leftside of the highway up north", she recalls.  
"You buried a tin box with black cat's bones, graveyard dirt and everything?", he checks to be sure.  
"To summon the demon, yeah", Zoë confirms.  
"You have to perform a ritual there. Nothing big, some of your blood and some kind of amulet that the demon has on him have to be added to that box. Then we can torch it and this all me over", Sam gives them the short version.  
"That's it?", Zoë asks dazed.  
"Simple as that", Sam smiles relieved.

"Simple? It's freakin' Mission Impossible".  
It's Dean who makes that comment.  
"What happened to Mr. Sunshine?", Zoë comments cynical and unpleasantly surprised.  
"Just think about it for a moment. How were you planning to get Zoë down there in the first place, Sam? She has half a dozen hellhounds on her tail. The moment she steps out, she's finished", he brings to mind.  
Zoë hates to admit it, but she didn't thought of that until now. He's right, she won't ever make it to the valley.  
"What if Sam comes up and takes my blood and that amulet thingy down the mountain?", Zoë ponders. "He's at a much smaller risk than we are".  
"Not gonna happen", Dean decides immediately, not wanting his brother to become pray.  
"It wouldn't work anyway. Singer was very clear about the fact that the one who made the pack is the one who needs to fire up what that tin box contains. You need to be down there and do it yourself, Zo. Otherwise it won't work", Sam clears up.  
"Damn it", Zo curses.  
For a moment all three keep quiet as they try to think of a solid plan.  
"I'm at the crossroads", the youngest Winchester informs after a while.  
"Please tell me they didn't pave it somewhere over the last couple of years", she closes her eyes and looks up at heaven.  
"I don't know. There's too much snow. Just give me a second", Sam informs.  
Puzzled Dean and Zoë stare at the satellite phone, which produces a number of sounds they can't really place. It sounds like Sam is driving a truck of some kind. Apparently he backs out a few times, because they can hear a series of beeping warnings every once in a while.

"Sam?", Zoë asks.  
"Yeah?"  
"What the hell is that?", she wants to know.  
"Ehm, well… I kind of stole a snowcat".  
Dean's eyes widen, followed by a stunned huff, smiling proudly.  
"Sammy, I'm so proud of you", he replies, pretending to get all emotional and sobby.  
"Well I'm not, so shut up", Sam mumbles.  
Despite the circumstances, Zoë can't help but to let out a little chuckle. Apparently Sam is done cleaning up the snow, because he turns the engine off.  
"The road's clear. No pavestones, Zo", he declares.  
"That's just awesome, but we still have a insy winsy problem here", Zoë brings to mind.  
Again a moment of silence, but in one person's head, an idea starts to evolve. Zoë looks over at Dean and can read from his gaze that he's on to something.  
"What?", she asks curious.  
Still thinking through the possibility, he turns to Zoë. The way he looks at her beholds a kind of mystery and victory.

"How fast is your bike?", he asks her with a tone.  
Without other words, Zoë knows exactly what he's talking about. Of course! Why didn't she think of this before?  
"Dave", she realizes.  
Her Harley Davidson might be her way to freedom if it can drive her down the valley safe but fast.  
"Your bike?", Sam asks stunned.  
"I drove it up the mountain as high as possible. I had to it about 200 feet below", Zoë updates Sam, who wasn't aware of this.  
"Do you think you can go fast enough?", Sam checks.  
"I'm not sure. Those damn pit bulls are fast as hell…", Zoë ponders and sighs.  
"We need a diversion", Dean comes to realize.  
Suspecting more Zoë gazes at him as Dean stares at the ground while he rubs his chin. His eyes seem to freeze in the flames of the controlled campfire in the center of the room, which is their only source of light and warmth. Concentrated he wonders of in his thoughts. Then he looks at Zoë. He knows she's been thinking it, but probably doesn't consider it as a possibility. Yet his glare at her is enough to trigger a response.  
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?", she asks him carefully.  
After a brief moment he breaks eye contact and looks down at the satellite phone. He smiles satisfied.  
"Sam, I believe we have a plan".


	13. Chapter 13

Night has fallen in the valley of Darrington. Pitch black clouds pass by rapidly as they let down a rage of snow. Branches tap against the walls and roof of the hunters cabin, like drums exiting a crowd. Concentrated Zoë tapes in her leg. If she needs to run, she'd better be able to. Dean has packed their bag and is now rummaging in the backroom, probably searching for the devil's jewelry Sam was talking about. Just as she gets up and gives the securing tape a try, Dean walks out with a necklace in his hand. From the bronze chain hangs a miniature hourglass, which contains a black substance that has sunk down to the lower half of the pendant; time's up. He throws it towards her and Zoë catches it skillfully with one hand. For a moment she looks at it and then puts it away in her pocket.  
"That's all I need, right?", she checks with him.  
"That and your blood, so I'd bring this with you if I were you", Dean advises as he hands her a small pocket knife after which he picks the rifle off the floor.  
Absent she keeps the knife in the same pocket as where she just put the demon's pendant and stares outside where the hellhounds are waiting for her. As Dean loads their only shotgun with two slugs filled with goofer dust, he observes her.  
"Nervous?"  
Zoë turns at him as if she just snapped out of a daydream, but shakes her head. "I'm fine".  
Dean doesn't believe her, but keeps his mouth shut. He knows she's under a lot of pressure and that these last minutes before the moment of truth must bring up some tension. If he's honest, he would consider this idea suicidal, but it's the best option they have right now. It's this or hell for the both of them, so they better make it work. Then the satellite phone rings and Dean doesn't even have to look at the display to know who it is.  
"I've reached the Harley", Sam whispers as soon as his brother picks up the phone.  
"Good, ever hotwired a bike before?", Dean questions.

Zoë looks up worried as soon as she realizes this is about her Dave. Just the idea that someone who knows nothing about bikes is going to mess with it, makes her stomach turn.  
"Yeah, I'll manage. I'll give you another call when I found a way up to the cabin", Sam notifies.  
They both hang up and Dean glances at Zoë, who's waiting with her hands in her back pockets.  
"Showtime", he says with a grin as he tosses her a small bag of goofer dust.  
She takes her hands out of her pockets again and catches it.  
"Let's do this", she agrees determined and picks up the back pack.  
Both Dean and Zoë go through the back door where behind already lays a line of the black demon protection dust. She takes a deep breath and tries to concentrate on the goofer dust under the front door. Patiently Dean waits for her to do her thing. He observes her as she closes her eyes, then he glances as the black dust on the doorstep. The grains slowly start to hover away from the door. Dean's jaw drops while he witnesses this extraordinary happening, still finding it hard to believe what he's seeing. Then the grains drop on the floor and Zoë looks up again. With a swing the front door opens.  
"Hey Lassie! Dinnertime!", she shouts loudly.  
In a split second the blizzard outside stops instantly as a haul echoes through the woods outside. Scared Zoë gulps, but remains on her place. Furiously barking, the hellhounds suddenly rush in. By the sight of the enormous black beast, Zoë stumbles back and Dean hastily closes the door. A powerful force hits it from the other side as nails scratch deep into the wooden planks, but the thin layer of goofer dust prevents them from barging through. Seconds later the phone rings, which causes both Dean as Zoë to jump up startled. A little embarrassed with himself getting scared over a ringtone, he picks up.  
"Yeah?"  
"Ready when you are", Sam notifies.  
"Alrighty then. Operation Hellhound in progress", Dean states.

Dean hangs up and turns to Zoë, who's zips her jacket up to her chin.  
"That's our queue, let's go", he grabs her arm and intends to walk outside.  
"Dean, wait", she objects.  
Puzzled he turns around and looks at her, when Zoë takes a flag gun out of her backpack. She hands it over to Dean.  
"When the hellhounds are gone for good, give us a signal, okay?", she forces on him.  
He looks her in the eye as he takes the gun and puts it behind his waistband.  
"Will do", he promises as he more and more starts to realize how big the chances are that he won't come out of this alive.  
They proceed. Zoë carefully opens the door and looks around, but there's not a hellhound in sight. Besides the barking and growling of the creatures in the hunters cabin, it's completely silent. The blizzard that was going strong a minute ago seems to have vanished into thin air. Old trees draw long shadows in the sparkling white snow, but for as far as she can see there's not a living, or dead soul present.  
"Clear", she whispers, before she exits the door.  
Without hesitation they move along side the house to the front porch as the struggle through the thick layer of snow. Both keep a sharp eye, but the hellhounds all seem to be inside the house. As soon as Zoë has the front door in sight, she focuses on it, causing it to close. While with her mind she holds the door which the hellhounds try to break through, Dean runs up the porch and connects the door pillars with a line of dust. Startled he backs out when the hellhounds try to force the door without success. As he gets back on his feet and turns around, he notices Sam and the Harley Davidson, appearing from between the large evergreens. The roar of the engine is a joy to Zoë's ear and she smiles for a moment when the bright headlight approaches her.  
"Get on", Sam hints behind him.  
"No way you're riding", Zoë huffs, as she pulls the helmet of his head and gets on at the front.

A bit surprised he backs out to the end of the extended saddle of the Harley, where he settles before Zoë gasses up. For a slight moment she glances over her shoulder at Dean, who backs out down the porch with his shotgun ready. He looks back at her and gives her a nod, then she straightens her back and accelerates. Her back tire needs a moment to grip in the snow and ice, despite the deep spikes which are installed in these tires. When it does, the Harley shoots forward.  
"Hold tight!", Zoë warns her passenger as they disappear into the woods.  
Dean watches them leave and concentrates on the hellhounds when Sam and Zo are out of sight. Outrages they trash the entire cabin, but they are unable to bust out. Nevertheless Dean aims his shotgun at the door while he backs out. It will be a matter of minutes before they find a small hole in the wall or roof to break through. Anxious he keeps his eyes at the door as he takes cover behind a tree. He grips his rifle a little tighter, his finger on the trigger as he watches the hunters cabin shaking on its foundations. Then suddenly silence returns. A bit surprised Dean glares around the tree, then checks his watch. Zoë and Sam couldn't possibly be done with the ritual already, they haven't even been gone for a few minutes.  
Suddenly a loud series of barks roar through the woods again and the hellhounds burst out of the house by a fragile pipeline from the stove in the back room. Dean curses softly and takes cover behind the tree. He gulps and carefully lets his gaze slip around his hide out, but after what he sees, he wishes he didn't. Not only did the demonic dogs break loose, he can see them. He remembers the conversation he and Zo had over the phone with Sam. The hellhounds won't notice him when Zoë, their priority, is by his side. But as soon as she's out of sight, they intend to attack everything that looks slightly human, including him. The red eyed creatures search the small open spot in front of the cabin, sniffing the grounds for a lead. Dean keeps completely still and holds his breath. He knows they will notice him sooner or later, but he has to wait it out as long as he can if he wants to survive this. Without a sound he glances over at the hellhounds. One of the monstrous black dogs smells at the Harley's tire tracks and starts to growl. Blood runs down the creature's jaws and stains the pure snow. Then another hellhound hauls at the moon as a sign of attack. The group starts running down the mountain, following Sam and Zoë as fast as they can. Again Dean curses. Zoë could be a professional racer for all he cares, that Harley won't ever outrun these fast hunters. Adrenaline starts rushing through his body even faster than a moment ago now that he realizes that he's left no other choice. He must, he won't let his brother and Zoë die over this. Sacrifice? Yes. Suicide? Yes. But this has to be done. He gets up and leaves his hide out. Determined he walks away from the shadow and into the mystical moonlight.

"Hey Tinkerbell!", he yells.  
Most of the dogs stop and turn around to see where the sounds coming from. Three pair of red glowing eyes look in his direction.  
"Yeah, I'm talking to you, you furless Chihuahua. It's Paris Hilton in the flesh!", Dean spreads his arms and offers himself.  
Growling the hellhounds approach their pray, carrying their heads low between their shoulders. The black hair on their backs stands up while they keep their tails low and show their razor sharp teeth. Honestly, it scares the crap out of Dean and that stands for something, but he can't go back now.  
"What's the matter? Don't you wanna take revenge for all the times you've walked around in pink Gucci outfits and had to wait in my matching handbag while I was making my home made sexvideos?", he nags, backing out slowly.  
He doubts they actually understand what the hell he's saying, but the dogs respond to him. In stead of running down the mountain after Zoë and Sam, they now shoot towards Dean.  
"Thought so", he comments nervous and makes a run for it.


	14. Chapter 14

With tremendous speed the Harley carves through the snow down the slopes of Whitehorse Mountain. It's an absolute crazy attempt to get down the mountain, but miraculously they haven't crashed yet. Sam has experienced the very best of motorsports during these terrifying moments. He tries to hold on as well as he can, because he has a feeling that if he falls off, Zo won't turn around to pick him up. Zoë sees the lights of town shimmering down below, but they soon disappear into the darkness of the forest again. Skillfully and fearless Zoë steers her bike between all sorts of obstacles. It's a good thing that the thick layer of snow and ice has equalized the grounds of these woods, otherwise it would be almost impossible to ride them. Every single movement that her Dave makes, Zoë's prepared for. Slightly hanging back in the saddle to bear the shocks from the front wheel, she corrects every slip or slide just enough the avoid the bike from spinning out of control. Finally she finds the trail and directs her bike to it, so that she can speed it up a bit more. As fast as she possibly can on this path, she races her Harley down the mountain until they reach the fallen tree at the beginning of the trail.  
"Care for a little jump?", she asks her passenger.  
Before Sam can answer, she steers her bike towards the tree. Startled Sam stares at the obstacle and notices the ramp like stone cover in snow besides the tree. Without hesitations Zoë moves her Dave up the ramp, causing them to lift off and fly through the air. Sam lets out a squeal when they land roughly.  
"You're nuts!", Sam shouts pissed off.  
"You're right about that!", Zoë replies.  
They pass the cars which are still parked at the beginning of the trail, including the Impala, but there isn't enough time to switch vehicles. Without decreasing speed they ride down the narrow slippery road. Zoë remembers these back roads well, because she shows no doubt at all when she makes a right. They pass a small Hill Billy dwelling and soon after make a sharp left turn. Finally Zoë hits a decent street and ends up on 387th Ave NE. The layer of snow that covers the road is thick enough for her spiked tires to grip. Now that she has time to glare into her back mirror without tripping over fallen trees and other obstacles, she looks behind her. But what she sees is anything but comforting.

"Uhoh".  
"What?", Sam wonders as he glances over his shoulder.  
"Hellhounds", Zoë stammers.  
Their red eyes glow up in her mirror as the beasts close in on her from out the shadow of the mountain. Quickly she stares ahead and opens the gas even more. Eventually she ends up on Arlington-Darrington Road. Despite the snowcats and other machines that are used to clear the asphalt, she curls between the large vehicles like a snake and completely ignores the road sign that claims it's 'closed'. Several working men jump out of the way startled.  
"Crap crap crap!", Zoë curses.  
"I can't see them", Sam says as he tries to look over his shoulder.  
"That's because they're after me, knucklehead!", she replies pissed.  
"What about Dean?", the youngest brother asks.  
"Why do you think I'm in such a hurry?", she returns on him.  
As she drives straight through Darrington without slowing down, she monitors the hellhounds closely. Despite her topspeed of a 90 miles an hour on these slippery roads, they are still closing in on her. Then she sees it, a little further up ahead. The place where everything that lead to this started in the first place; the crossroad where Powerline Road and Giles Road meet. Sam cleared the crossing with the snowcat earlier, only a thin layer of snow covers the dirt. Again she glances in her mirror as the barking dogs draw her attention again; they are only a yard behind them.  
"They're too damn close!", Zoë says nervous.  
Suddenly an idea pops up in her head and she glares over her shoulder for a moment to notify Sam.  
"There's goofer dust in my left pocket. When I say 'now', you sprinkle it down on the ground, okay?", she tells him.  
She feels his hand rummaging through her pocket after which he takes out a small bag, right before they hit the crossroad. Zoë can see the bloody teeth of the monsters behind her as they are about to go for her tires. Then she makes her move.

"NOW!"  
She completely blocks her front tire by hitting the break, accelerates at the same time while she moves her weight to the left, causing her back tire to swing out. As this happens, Sam, who's still positioned on the tail of the bike, lets the dust fall down on the ground equally. Just before the hellhounds are about to jump her with wide open jaws and horrifying blood shot eyes, the circle is complete and the creatures are blocked the lines of goofer dust, Zoë brings her Harley Davidson to a stop and stares at the dogs for a moment; talking about a close call. Zoë doesn't have much time to linger though, Dean is still up Whitehorse Mountain with probably a bunch of hellhounds on his ass. Quickly they start to dig through the frozen ground. It feels like ages, but after a short time they stumble on the tin box which Zoë had buried five years ago. She opens it fast as the hellhounds rush her by barking loudly without pausing. While Zoë performs the ritual, Sam stares at the claw prints that carve into the frozen ground like it's butter, just outside the circle. At the mean time, Zoë hastily takes out the hourglass pendant and drops it in the box, then she clicks open Dean's knife and exposes her hand above the small case. In a short cut she slices open the palm of her hand and lets the drops fall down on the other objects inside the box without even flinching. Sam hands her the matches which she lights and tosses in the tin case. A chemical reaction follows, then the world seems to stand still for a moment. The barking and hauling stops, but Zoë is almost afraid to look over her shoulder to see if the hellhounds are gone. It seems so unreal, she has been fighting this for five whole years, might it now actually be over? Slowly she rises from the ground and turns around. No threatening growl, no red demonic eyes staring into hers, showing her what will be waiting for her down the pit. No black dogs, they are gone! With the disappearance of the hellhounds, the winds starts to blow again and soon develops back into the heavy blizzard as snow starts coming down from the sky. Nature comes back to life; the winds plays with her hair and feels cold yet comforting on her skin as if she's suddenly not numb anymore.  
"It worked", she concludes with disbelief.  
Sam sighs relieved and smiles at her, even Zoë can't help but to laugh.  
"It actually freakin' worked!", she cries out as she realizes what this means.

Hopeful she turns around to face Whitehorse Mountain and scans the mountain slopes. Now all they have to do is wait for Dean's signal. Alert she looks up, but the mountain remains in the dark and slowly the smile disappears from Zoë's face.  
"Dean has the flag gun, he's suppose to give us a signal", she tells Sam.  
A bit out of breath they search every inch of the mountain, but they can't find a red light anywhere. Sam starts to worry and takes out his Blackberry to phone Dean. The satellite phone rings, but he doesn't answer. Nervously he stares at his phone and over at Zoë, who swallows apprehensively.  
"C'mon, Dean. Fire the damn gun", she whispers.  
But nothing happens and the shadows of the night seem to turn darker all of a sudden. Zoë grinds her teeth and steps outside the circle staring at the location where the hunters cabin should be. High evergreens block her view, but even with these snowfalls, a flag gun should be clearly visible. Maybe the flag gun doesn't work, maybe he dropped the satellite phone. Anything could have happened, there's no reason to panic, right? Resolute she steps towards her bike and gets back in the saddle. Sam follows her lead and throws his right leg over the Harley to sit down.  
"Get off, Sam", Zoë demands.  
"No, I'm coming with you. If something has happened to him…", Sam argues, but isn't able to finish his sentence.  
"Don't say that", she interrupts. "You're only slowing me down. And how am I suppose to get him down when you're in the only passenger seat?"  
"I'll walk, now would you just go!", Sam cries out as he start to get edgy.  
With a sigh Zoë straightens her back and turns up the gas, not wanting to argue Sam at this point. He's right, they need to get up there as fast as they can. Zoë's afraid to think it, but it took them quite a while to get down. If Dean actually got the hellhounds on his tail, he wouldn't have survived long. She speeds up the highway going west, praying that Dean's okay. The idea of him ending up down south while she was the one actually making that deal isn't something she could bear. The list of casualties involving her already is way too long.


	15. Chapter 15

"Give it another try", Sam insists from behind the motorbike.  
Slowly Zoë opens up the gas, hoping that the back tire finally gets a grip on the snow, but the Harley Davidson only digs itself in deeper and deeper. The last bit of their bizar drive she and Sam had to the crossroads over half ice half asphalt, wore off the spikes in her tires. But now that they are trying to reach Dean by climbing Whitehorse Mountain, the slip prevention is necessary. Snow and hail shoots down from the sky like razorblades, hurting both Sam and Zoë's face, just as the cutting wind which is so strong that it finds its way through the tall evergreens.  
"Crap!", Zoë curses frustrated and she turns the throttle grip completely.  
The engine lets out a loud roar as if the Dave just got angry with her for losing her temper on it. The end result is that the back of the bike drops about three inches, making it even more impossible to get it out.  
"What did you do that for?", Sam replies annoyed.  
Zoë looks over her shoulder from the back of her Harley and finds Sam, covered in snow that just sprayed up from the back tire. His glare is priceless, if it wasn't for the stressed out situation they are in right now. Zoë sighs as the desperation starts to take over.  
"Any bright ideas?", she questions, glancing over her shoulder.  
Sam wipes the snow of his jacket and shakes it out of his half long dark hair before he answers. "You could help me push that damn thing out of this hole for starters".  
"Sam, 'this thing' is called a Harley, which weighs almost 800 pounds", she corrects insulted. "There's no way we're gonna pull it out, unless your abilities have suddenly risen to a new level and you can transform in the Hulk or something".  
"What?", Sam recalls puzzled.  
She rolls her eyes, too tensed to explain what's after her words. For a second she wonders if she could get the bike out using her freaky mojo, but after her fantastic little dream earlier today, she isn't planning to use it any time soon.  
"Never mind", Zoë sighs and gets off the bike.

"Where are you going?", he asks.  
"I'm going for a little hike in the mountains", she responds smartly as she holds the steer for him to take over.  
As soon as he prevents the bike from tumbling over to one side, she lets go of her precious vehicle and walks off into the heavy blizzard.  
"Try to turn it around and wait here, I'll see if I can find Dean", she tells him.  
"No! I'm going with you", he objects.  
Zoë stops and turns around. The wind waves her brown hair in front of her face, but she isn't bothered by it. In stead she stares at Sam annoyed; apparently she won't take no for an answer.  
"You are not leaving that bike. We'll need it to get us down this freakin' pile of rock and I hate to admit it, but with a busted leg, I'm not able to", she states clear.  
Sam doesn't reply, but she can see from his face that he realizes she's right. Satisfied with that result she turns around and struggles through the snow, leaving the youngest Winchester behind wit her Harley. The forest turned pitch black after the strange intermission of the storm which the supernatural events caused. Now that she doesn't have the bright headlight of her motorbike shining the path ahead of her, she takes out a small flashlight and switches it on. Although her leg hurts like hell and she feels cold, she walks on firmly, looking up the mountain determined. Behind her she can hear the engine of her Harley, but the sounds fades as her conscious kicks in again, as it has ever since she completed the ritual. On her way up, it crossed her mind several times; Dean might have died tonight. So far they haven't heard or seen any sign of life and considering she only had two dogs on her tail instead of the total of five, she reckons she can conclude that Dean was forced to deal with the rest of them. _Crap!_ She could kick herself in the head right now! This was a stupid idea, he's probably dead because of her deal. For God's sake, she should be the one in hell! Dean's death would be incredibly unfortunate. Sure, hunters die during cases, it's a risk of their profession, but not like this. Not only did she get to know the guy a little better, he would also be another casualty of her doing, and Zoë's not sure if she can handle more blood on her hands. Then she suddenly stops in her tracks, when something odd in the distance catches her attention in the light of her torch. Curious she walks over and crouches as she touches the stained snow. She touches it and then turns her hands to see the red substance on her fingertips.  
"Damn it, Dean", she whispers disturbed as she glances further up the slope.

A trail of blood crosses her path. Not just a few drops, but a worrisome amount brings color to the black and white world she wonders through. Alert she walks on as she shines her flashlight on the ground and trees surrounding her. The trail isn't entirely fresh, a thin layer of snow has covered a lot up, but they are obvious enough for her to notice. A few yards ahead the footsteps disappear and Zoë discovers a imprint in the smooth equalized snowy landscape. Again she leans on one knee down and shines her light on the bark beside her, which contains a unleashed empty slug. It looks awfully familiar; it's one of hers. As a crime scene investigator she imagines Dean being tackled to the ground, then turning around to fire a slug at the approaching hellhounds. The blood trail continues further up the mountain and Zoë climbs it faster than she did a moment ago. Then, in the distance through the rain of snow, she sees the hunters cabin. Despite the pain in her leg and the heavy snow, she starts running along side the stained snow, which leads directly to the little wooden house in the open spot below the Lone Tree Pass.  
"DEAN!", she shouts loudly as she runs up to the cabin.  
In front of the porch she stops, finding more and more blood. With a sigh she stares down at the red snow and swallows apprehensively.  
"This is bad…", she whispers, after which she raises her voice and shouts his name again. "DEAN!"  
No answer, not even a sound. She carefully listens as she observes her surroundings. _This is very bad_, she realizes. Her eyes follow the trail of blood, which carries on to the front porch. Hastily she runs towards the house, up the stairs to the front door, but it won't budge. Worried she puts her hands against the door and tries to push it open.  
"Dean! Are you in there?", she shouts loudly.  
Again nothing and Zoë doesn't hesitate for a moment when she puts her shoulder into it when she hits the door. It swings open and Zoë stumbles in. Immediately she scans the room, but then she finally hears his voice.  
"Could you stop screaming? I already have a headache you don't wanna know about", Dean moans complaining.  
Zoë follows his voice and gazes around the corner, where she finds him on the floor against the wall. The bright light from her flashlight show his condition, which are everything but good.  
"Good God Dean", she brings out as she hastens towards him.  
"I like it when you call me that", he replies perky.  
"Drop the act, smartass. This is serious", Zoë responds firmly yet worried.

She kneels down next to him and takes off her backpack while she observes the situation. From what she can see he's in pretty bad shape. He's out of breath and almost seems feverish, but the fact that he's shivering from the cold tells differently. Three deep cuts in the form of a claw has scared his forehead and he has a disturbing bite wound in his neck, his arm is also messed up.  
"You've lost a lot of blood", Zoë concludes as she tries to think straight.  
Quickly she drops her backpack on the floor and takes out the first aid kit and he watches her open without responding.  
"Why didn't you fire the damn flag gun, Dean? We thought you were dead", she shakes her head disapproving.  
"I used it on Rexie", he answers, after which he coughs.  
"Using fire on a hellhound, how desperate were you? You know that will do no good", she comments.  
"It made _me_ feel better", he responds nonchalant.  
Tired out and weakening, he rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes for a moment while he tries to control his respiration. When he opens his eyes again, he follows Zoë's actions, as she rummages through the bag and hands him a bottle of Gatorade. He takes with his unharmed hand and has a swig, after which he clears his throat and licks his dry lips, tasting the blood.  
"Boy, I wish you had something stronger than this", he wishes.  
"Not for now, hold still", she orders.  
Carefully she opens his jacket and removes the collar from the ugly wound. As Dean holds his breath for a moment, she daps away the blood to have a better look.  
"You're one lucky bastard, know that? That son of a bitch took a mouthful millimeters from your main artery. You would had died within minutes if he'd actually torn it", Zoë brings to mind.  
She places the compress on the wound and Dean squints his eyes in pain.  
"Yeah well, I don't really consider myself lucky right now", Dean comments.

Without responding Zoë secures the compress with a bandage to staunch the worse bleeding. Again Dean closes his eyes as he lets her do what she does best. His arm hurts the most, but the lack of blood makes him feel like he could fall asleep just like that; consciousness is bailing on him.  
"Hey, Dean. Stay with me", Zoë shakes him up before he floats off.  
"I'm still here", he moans, quickly fluttering his eyes.  
Concentrated she takes care of the wounds and they both stay quiet for a moment. Zo keeps a sharp eye on her colleague. Concerned she glances at his bloody face. This is all her fault, Dean is messed up because of her stupid deal. It should have been _her_ who needs treatment. He's clearly in pain, which makes her feel even more guilty.  
"I'm sorry, Dean…", she clarifies.  
He looks at her sideways, but Zoë pretends her gaze is focused on her hands so that she can avoid his eyes.  
"Hold on a minute, did you just apologize?", he asks stunned.  
For a moment she stops with what she's doing and glares at him. His facial expression changes instantly as he regrets that comment.  
"Don't be weird, Zo. It comes with the job", he ensures her.  
But Zoë is clearly not at ease.  
"You could have died", she argues.  
"Yep, I also could have been hit by a bus when I crossed the street a few days back", he brings in against her argument.  
"This is different", Zoë responds restless.  
It's bothering her and Dean can see it. For a moment she's not harsh as she normally is, apparently this is the one thing she's afraid of happening. Not to him in particular, but just the fact that someone gets hurt over her.  
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Zo", he advises carefully.  
But Zoë doesn't look back and finishes the temporary treatment. Deep down she knows he's right, but it doesn't feel anything like it. Silently she puts the first aid kit back into the backpack which she lifts off the floor.

"I'm done, lets get you down. Can you walk?", she asks him, before she gets up herself.  
"Do I have a choice?", he returns.  
She guesses he doesn't and offers him her hand. He takes it and she pulls him up as he lets out a groan of pain. Before he loses his balance, she supports him and they slowly exit the cabin. Immediately the wind stings their skin, but they walk on anyway. Zoë has her arm around his back to support him, he laid his unharmed arm over her shoulders as she holds his wrist to keep it that way. He's unable to walk down by himself, he leans on her heavily. It's difficult to maneuver through the snow, their feet feel like as if they are being pulled down by the mountain. Their journey to Sam and the Dave seems to take ages, but then finally Zoë spots the headlight of her bike in the distance. Carefully they stumble down the steep slope and reach Sam. When he sees his brother holding on to Zo with blood all over him, he intends to shoot towards him.  
"Dean!", he cries out shocked.  
"Don't drop the bike, or I'll drop him", Zoë threatens before he lets go of the steer.  
"Hey!", Dean looks aside at her insulted.  
Sam decides for the sake of his brother to hold on to the Harley Davidson, as Dean and Zoë approach them. She's pleased to see that Sam managed to back up and turn the bike. She knows she needs to get Dean down that mountain fast, a hospital visit wouldn't be a bad option either, if he likes it or not.  
"Hey Sammy", Dean greets, glad to see his younger brother after days of being apart.  
"They caught you?", Sam concludes worried.  
"I seduced them, actually", he admits.  
"You'll have to explain that later", Zoë states when she sees Sam's stunned face that matches hers perfectly.  
The engine of the Harley spurs rhythmically as if it's waiting for the owner to get in the saddle and drive down. Carefully Zoë lets go off Dean, who manages to stay on his feet. Not wanting to linger, she sits down on her precious bike and invites Dean on the back with a little tap on the leather seat.  
"Comin'?", she offers.

"I thought you always fly solo?", he recalls smartly from their talk in Rochester as his brother helps him on the bike.  
"I'll make an exception, don't get use to it", she responds firmly.  
"You can't take him to hospital, you know that, right?", Sam checks with Zoë before they take off.  
"Why not?", she asks puzzled.  
"You won't make it out if the valley, every road is blocked", Sam informs.  
Zoë curses softly, but Dean is the first who comments.  
"Dude, I don't feel so good and you know I hate hospitals", Dean says to underline his state of condition.  
"Chopper?", Sam ponders, looking from one to the other.  
"They don't fly during blizzards like these", Zoë knows.  
She looks over her shoulder at the wounded Dean as snow keeps falling down on them. He needs help fast, but it seems like the only one who can actually do something for him, is Zoë herself.  
"I'll patch him up", she decides.  
"You can?", Sam and Dean both question at the same time.  
"Yeah, I'll manage. It's not like you have other options", she brings to mind after which she carefully lets the pressure of the breaks.  
"Be careful", the youngest Winchester brother presses on them.  
"Wait a minute", Dean replies on that before they drive off. "What about you?"  
"I'll walk", Sam tells him and then turns to Zoë. "Now go, take care of him".  
"I will", Zoë assures.

Calmly she opens the gas and puts her bike into motion. In a matter of minutes before she finds the old path she raced down with Sam not so long ago and rides down Whitehorse Mountain following that same trail. Dean has gripped his arms around her as a prevention to fall off. It takes them a lot longer to get down than on the first ride. Then again, they don't have bloodthirsty hellhounds on their tail and she wants to make sure Dean remains in the saddle now that he's weakened. Zoë finds it difficult to keep the heavy bike balanced with these heavy winds and the lack of profile to grip the slippery snow. Obviously they are both relieved when they finally reach the beginning of the trail. In stead of her Dukes of Hazzard jump over the tree, she slowly rides around it.  
"There's my baby", Dean smiles pleased when he notices his 67 Chevrolet Impala up ahead.  
The black paint of the car is barely visible, as she is completely covered in snow. The Chevy looks like she was abandoned and has been in the same spot for months. Dean expects his driver to pass by, but instead she decreases speed and stops her bike next to the car. She looks over her shoulder at her passenger.  
"Get off", she commands.  
"What? Why?", Dean questions puzzled.  
"Because we still have a long road ahead and I can't effort you rolling off half way", she argues.  
Dean sighs, but listens to her. With a sigh and a moan he gets off the bike, which Zoë places on the center stand. Before she helps him to the car, she opens one of the saddlebags and takes out the metallic briefcase he knows way too well; Zoë's surgery equipment. Dean gulps, it just comes to him how much her way of 'patching up' will probably hurt. When she intends to follow through to the passenger door, Dean fights her.  
"No way. It's a miracle Sam gets to drive that car, but you surely aren't getting behind the wheel", Dean makes clear.  
"I sure am, 'cause although I had a bunch of flesh tearing mad dogs on my hands, I am not completely suicidal. Have you seen yourself?", Zoë argues firmly.  
"You don't treat her with respect, you really think I'm gonna let you drive after you screwed her up last time?", he huffs stunned.  
"To save _your _life, remember?", she brings to mind.  
Without further arguing, Zoë forces him to the right side of the car. Not that she needs much to convince him of doing so; he can barely stand on his feet. He has to admit, it feels quite safe and relieving when he carefully slides into his seat after he handed Zoë the keys, with a little resistance of course. After she scraped the ice off the front window, Zoë opens the door and settles down on the drivers side after which she puts the little suitcase in the back seat. As if she knows the car for ages, she places the key in the ignition and turns it. Despite the cold, the Chevrolet starts in one try and roars satisfied. The radio switches on automatically, still halfway through the song Dean was listening to before he got up the mountain. It takes a few second before Zoë realizes which song she's listening to, but when it comes to her, she glares aside at Dean.

"_Black Dog._ Seriously?", she replies.  
"It's a good song", he shrugs.  
She huffs, but then smiles. What the hell, he's right; it is a good song. She turns up the volume after she decides to ignore the title of the Led Zeppelin track.  
"It will keep you awake, that's for sure", Zo comments on it.  
Smoothly she backs up, then puts the car in forward motion by stepping on the gas. The back tires slip slightly, but manage to get a grip on the road and they drive off. Dean might be badly injured, he still monitors every action she makes. His eyes follow her constantly, if she's not driving too close to the ridge, how she steering, if she's not going too fast. Silly of course, because when he's behind the wheel, he drives like a madman. But he knows this car, every square inch and the fact that Zoë doesn't, but still is the one doing the driving, disturbs him.  
"Would you stop mocking on my driving skills, Dean?", Zoë requests irritated.  
"I didn't say anything", he replies insulted.  
"You don't need to, I can feel your eyes burning in the side of my head. Knock it off", she huffs.  
Dean sighs and looks over to the other side, doing his best to keep his eyes open. The dark lands pas him by, nothing but mountain sides and tall evergreens. After a while the first signs of life show now that they pass the first homes. As soon as the engine has warmed up a little, Zoë turns on the heater. They both are in the need of some warmth; Zoë's fingers feel like they are about to fall off and Dean is shivering too. The wipers shoot back and forth over the windshield, clearing the snow. As the glass heats up, snowflakes melt as soon as they hit the warm surface, dwelling down the window as their size decreases.  
"How're you holding up?", Zoë asks concerned as the road between Arlington and Darrington appears in the distance.  
"Hanging in there like a trooper", Dean answers.  
He carefully sits up and glares through the windshield at the highway they are approaching. He can make out from the blurry sight that something's off.  
"Is that a roadblock?", he checks, unpleasantly surprised.  
"Yep, but don't worry. I got through it twice, it's not that much of an obstacle", Zoë assures.  
"Yeah, and have you considered to your calculations that this car is almost seven feet wide?", he brings to mind.

Zoë lifts her eyebrows and opens her mouth to reply on that, but all she can do is conclude that she didn't consider that fact at all. Getting past a roadblock by bike is one thing, but passing one driving a muscle car like this one is a totally different story.  
"Oh…", is the only thing she can get out of her mouth.  
"Oh indeed", Dean shakes his head and sighs.  
Without slowing down she lays her left hand on the wheel and stares over it concentrated. She needs to get to her Motel, one way or the other, so she doesn't hesitate and steps on the gas. A bit startled Dean glares aside while the sound of the engine rises to a higher note.  
"Ehm… Zo?"  
"Yeah".  
"Are you gonna do what I think you're gonna do?", he questions, hoping for a negative answer.  
"If you are thinking I'm gonna hit the roadblock head on and drive straight through it, yeah", she confirms.  
"No no no no. Listen to me, I just got a new grill", Dean objects nervous.  
"Good thing, because this is what grills are for", she responds smartly while she puts the peddle to the metal.\  
"A Hummer's grill maybe, but not this one!", he cries out.  
"You have a better idea, short bus?", she glances aside waiting for an answer.  
She doesn't get one, Dean only glances from her to the roadblock ahead with his mouth slightly opened, unable to say anything  
"Good, because I've always wanted to do this", Zoë replies.

Dean stares at the woman driving his car as she speeds up on the slippery highway. She grips the wheel with both hands as the adrenaline starts rushing through her body again. A smirk appears on her face and she turns up the volume of the radio, which now plays _Black Night_ by Deep Purple. Slightly panicking Dean gazes back ahead at the fast approaching roadblock sign and braces himself. A few working man flee away from the road when they notice that this car isn't gonna stop. Just before they hit the block, Zoë lets out a loud exited squeal. Then, which a loud blow of breaking wood the Impala crashes through. Both glance in the back mirror as pieces of the road block smack down on the icy road, while Zo's eyes are shimmering of excitement.  
Dean is anything but pleased. "If there is one scratch on her, I swear to God I'll…"  
"Yeah yeah yeah. You'll kill me, I know", Zoë finishes careless.  
The rest of their journey is an easy and careful ride. The snow is piling up on the roads and the closer they get to the little town of Darrington, the harder is gets for the Impala to keep a grip on the snowy roads. It's quiet in the car; Zoë is concentrating on the road, trying to get Dean to the Motel, fast but safe. She glances aside, he doesn't look too good. Dean's really starting to feel sick, and that's not just from the bumpy ride. He has his hand clamped around his harmed left arm and focuses on the _Stagecoach Inn_ which appears in the distance. But before they even get there, he can't stop his eyes from shutting. Both he and Zoë keep their mouth shut as Dean balances on the edge of consciousness. Finally Zoë pulls over next to the small Inn and turns the ignition off. For a second there she observes the place. It looks a lot different than when she checked in four days back, now that the roof and banisters are covered under a layer of snow. The modern yet traditional building made out of wood from the forest surrounding it looks cozy and inviting.  
"Stay awake, Dean", she pads him against the knee, knowing that a pad against the arm would shoot him through the roof.  
Startled he lifts up his head and opens his eyes, as if he just woke up from a bad dream. She can see he was out for a second by the surprised look on his face when he notices the engine is turned off an the Inn in front of them. As Zoë gets out of the car he straightens his back to get out himself, but she has already opened his door and offers him her hand. Although he would rather stand up by his own, he knows that his body isn't willing to cooperate. So when Zoë grabs his wrist, their arms collide as he grabs hers and she pulls him up. He lets out a painful groan and after Zoë takes out the metal briefcase, he follows her lead to the entry of their place for the night. For once she doesn't bring him down on his weakness and supports him without using words. The snow and hail feels sharp on their skin as they cross the small parking lot, bowing their heads for the icy wind.

Both are relieved to trade the freezing cold outside for the warm foyer as the wooden door falls in lock behind them. Dean starts leaning heavier on her as he almost loses his balance, but she manages to keep him on his feet. The woman who checked Zoë in days ago, accidentally walks by on her way over to work on the books in her office. When she looks aside to observe who just walked into her Inn, she drops the books on the floor with a short squeal.  
"Oh my gosh, look at you! What happened?", she cries out.  
"We were stuck on Whitehorse Mountain", Zoë explains shortly as she guides Dean straight to room 08.  
"Ran into a bunch of wolves", Dean adds.  
Mrs. Watson leaves the books where she dropped them and catches up with the hunters while she draws her keys from her pocket, now that Zoë has her hands full on Dean.  
"Here, let me help you", hastily she opens the door.  
Carefully Zoë brings Dean to the bed and lowers him to it. He squints while he sits down as pain runs through his body.  
"I'll call doctor Davis right away", Mrs. Watson notifies before she quickly steps back to the counter.  
"No, that won't be necessary. I'm a physician myself", Zoë explains as she sits down next to him.  
"Is there anything else I can do?", the owner of the _Stagecoach Inn _offers concerned.  
Zoë overlooks Dean's condition for a moment before she answers while she sets the metal briefcase on the bed. Then she turns to the kind woman.  
"Is it any trouble to get some boiled water and clean towels in here?", she questions.  
"Not at all", Mrs. Watson gets to it and leaves the room.  
"Son of a bitch", Dean curses in pain with raspy voice as soon as the kind owner has left.  
"I know, believe me", Zoë can rely.

"How's that leg by the way?", he looks at her sideways, watching her open the metal suitcase.  
"It's not your concern", she answers smartly to avoid her being a subject. "Take off your jacket".  
If she's honest, her leg hurts like hell, but it functions. The bleeding stopped after the hellhounds were sent back to the doghouse. She will have to take a look at it later. Patiently she waits until he has taken off his leather coat and the army green jacket underneath She's standing by with a pair of scissors to cut open his shirt, knowing that if he would take it off by pulling it over his head, he might worsen his injuries. After she's done removing the shirt she throws the bloody fabric in a corner. Zo now notices that he also has some ugly scratches on his well trained back and shoulder blades; it's worse than she thought. As Zoë rummages in the suitcase, Dean runs his hands through his moistly hair and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, while his elbow leans on his right knee. He listens to the wind, which haunts around the _Stagecoach Inn_ like a ghost and glances at the clock. It's not even nine O' clock, yet he feels so incredibly tired out that he wishes he could just fall back on the bed and sleep till Judgment Day. Unfortunately he knows he can't, not right now anyway; Zoë will need a couple of hours to patch him up. He glances aside and only now notices the injection she's preparing.  
"Wow! Stop right there", he demands, backing out intimidated.  
Zoë lifts her eyebrows after which she pushes the air out of the needle.  
"Relax, it just a little something for the pain", she ensures.  
"I don't care. You are not sticking needles into me, Zo. I'm serious", he makes clear.  
Surprised she glances aside at the young hunter and can't stop the slight grin appearing on her face. Well what do you know. Zoë has experienced this before, but she thought Dean would be the last person on earth with a phobia such as this one.  
"Are you scared of needles?", she confronts stunned.

The questions comes as a bit of a surprise, he wasn't expecting her to figure that out so fast. He quickly hides his dazed face and recovers, trying to seem comfortable with the sight of the injection.  
"No I'm not!", he states too quickly.  
She gives him a look and remains staring at him; she knows.  
"Well, maybe… a little…", he admits with difficulty. "Yeah…"  
She chuckles, but tries to overcome that feeling.  
"Don't laugh at me", he says embarrassed.  
"I'm not. It's just that…"  
Zoë is about to reply in her usual perky kind of way, but she holds back and shakes her head.  
"Never mind", she claims. "But you're really gonna need this shot, Dean".  
Dean shakes his head. "I'll bite the bullet".  
"It's not human to sew you up in this condition. Just let me give you this, you'll feel a whole lot less", Zoë encourages.  
Not accepting no for an answer she takes his unharmed arm and cleans a bit of skin with a wad soaked in alcohol. He pulls back, but Zoë doesn't let go.  
"Trust me, I won't give you a lethal injection", she rolls her eyes and holds his arm still.  
"Thanks for reminding me of that procedure", Dean gulps.  
Zoë picks up the injection and looks him in the eye.

"Look, it's really quite simple. Or I give you a shot and you'll feel absolutely nothing", she offers him "… or I won't give you a shot and you'll be dying of pain when I'm suturing you, which in that case will take twice as long by the way. So do yourself a favor, suck it up and let me do my job".  
"Are you done?", he questions, pretending to be bored.  
She tilts her head slightly and throws him a penetrating look, forcing him to give up this little performance he's giving away. Dean sighs defeated, looks away and lets her take his arm. Nervous he closes his eyes and breathes out. He can feel the blood rushing through his body as the hair on his arms and in the back of his neck stand up. _This is stupid_, he realizes. Yet he always had this fear for injections, since he was a little child. Ghosts, werewolves and demons he can handle, but needles? A chill runs down his spine. It takes ages before Zoë starts the minor procedure and his patience is running out.  
"Are you gonna get it over with or not?", he asks tensed.  
"It's already over with", Zoë replies.  
Puzzled he opens his eyes, just in time to see how she removes the needle out of his upper arm and daps the spot where she injected him with a clean wad and puts the used needle in a special plastic tube. A bit surprise Dean examines his arm; it's barely even bleeding and he didn't feel a thing. So this is what all the fuss was about? All the screaming and traumatic fights he had to go through as a child to get his flew shot? He huffs, now he feels even more stupid than he did a moment ago. Then they hear knocking from the door and Mrs. Watson enters with a pan of boiled water and some clean towels.  
"Thank you", Zoë says as she puts both the water and towels down next to Zo.  
"Oh, don't mention it", the woman steps back and rests her fists in her side.  
She's wearing a warm probably self-made sweater and has curly gray hair. Her whole appearance is welcoming and friendly just like her beautiful Inn.  
"That looks like it hurts, darling", she nods at Dean's wounded arm.  
"Just a bit", Dean states tough.

"Wolf attacks, I can't believe it", she shakes her head disapproving. "That's the fourth one in such a short period of time. Those poor animals are going bunkers now that their environment is shrinking, I tell ya".  
"That's probably the main reason, yes. And the sudden arrival of winter of course", Zoë lies convincing.  
"They won't bother us anymore, though", Dean responds with raspy voice.  
"You shot them?", the owner concludes.  
Both Zoë and Dean nod, the only man in their company a little more interested than Zoë, who's preparing her instruments.  
"Right, you're that gentleman from Wildlife Services, aren't you? I'm sorry, I am really bad at names", Mrs. Watson remembers now. "It's a shame, they're beautiful animals, but when people come at risk, choices have to be made".  
"The decision came a little late though", Zoë comments.  
Dean looks aside and notices the guilt in her eyes. He knows she's talking about David's family, about the hunters. It must be hard for her to know that if she'd found a way to end the hellhound hunt faster, those five people would still be alive. Still she has no reason to blame herself. These things happen and she can't predict the future just yet, so until that time, people have to die before they draw attention to a possible case. It's harsh, but true.  
"We stopped it, maybe not in time for some, but we made these mountains safe again. Who knows how many people would have died if we didn't cut the cord, Zo. Including me and you", he makes clear.  
For a moment she glances back and a little smile appears on her face. She understands the hidden message of his comment.  
"Amen to that", Mrs. Watson agrees and intends to leave the room. "If you need anything, just give us a call. Sure you don't want me to get Dr. Davis?"  
"No that's fine, thank you", Zoë states grateful.

Silently the woman leaves the room and Zo continues preparing her stitches. Dean rubs his face, fighting the tiredness. By the minute he feels weaker and weaker as his vision blurs out every now and them. It's a light headed feeling, the ones you have when you had way too much to drink and are on the edge of caving in.  
"I'm not feeling so well", he notifies.  
Zoë looks aside at him, but isn't concerned. In stead of that, she actually smirks.  
"It's normal, don't worry about it", she comforts.  
"No, really, Zo", Dean squints his eyes as everything around him starts to turn. "I don't feel good".  
"Lay down", she orders stern yet calm.  
He does as told as he starts to panic slightly. He has the feeling as if he has no control over his body what so ever. He covers his eyes to protect them from the bright light on the ceiling as his respiration fastens.  
"What was in that shot?", he stammers.  
"Well, I can tell you it wasn't just a painkiller", Zoë admits.  
Stunned he lifts his head off the pillow and stares at her flabbergasted.  
"You _DRUGGED _me?", he cries out.  
"You looked like you could use a good night sleep", she excuses careless.  
"Zoë!", he rests his head in the soft pillow again and sighs.  
He flutters his eyes, but refuses to give in.

"I can't believe you freakin' drugged me", he whispers with disbelief.  
"I did, so get use to it. Besides, I can't drain it back out", she answers rapid. "Let it take you and don't fight it off, it's not a battle you're going to win, Dean".  
"I'll be the winner of our battle when this is over", he threatens.  
"See you then", Zoë smiles. "Now let go…"  
Dean doesn't have much choice. He feels like he received a blow in the head that caused such a concussion that he is about to pass out from it. For a few seconds he keeps fighting, but then he gives in. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply, it's only moments after that he loses consciousness and drifts of to another world. A world without pain, without cold, without hellhounds.


	16. Chapter 16

It's way passed midday when Dean wakes up from what feels like a coma. He doesn't open his eyes just yet, but listens to his surroundings for a moment. The storm that was hauling around the building last night has decreased to a whispering breeze. Further than that, it's completely quiet in the room. He flutters his eyes and stares up at the wooden struts which support the ceiling. What the hell happened? Then he remembers, the hellhounds and his attempt to escape that sort of succeeded, Zoë who dragged him down the mountain and… drugged him? As that sinks in he sits up, waiting for some kind of sharp pain to set in, but all he feels is this soreness, like a bad muscle ache. Carefully he lifts up his arm, which has swollen but is supported by a splint. When he touches his forehead, he feels the stitches. Zoë sure got busy. Still a bit sleepy he glances over his shoulder and is surprised by what he sees. He expected Zoë to be out of the room, maybe already gone, but in fact she's asleep, right next to him. He smiles, what a little innocent face. For a moment he watches her chest rise and full under the covers, her head slightly turned to the right and comfortably resting on her pillow. She probably fell asleep after she took care of him. Silently he gets off the bed and strolls over to the bathroom, where stares at his reflection in the mirror.  
"Talkin' about a bad hair day", he muddles.  
Normally his short light brown hair is fixed with a little bit of wax and although he doesn't shave on daily base, right now he looks like a cave man. He rubs his face and turns the faucet, after which he splashes the refreshing warm water in his face. With a clean towel he dries his skin and stares back into the mirror. A little better, at least now he seems slightly awake, but he still needs to borrow a razor from Sam.

He turns around and observes the sutures all over his shoulder blades and back, which keep the wounds closed. He's quite stunned by the fine work, Zoë did a terrific job, even though she probably felt just as tired as he did. If he didn't knew any better, he'd say this was the job of a fully trained surgeon. A clean compress is tied to his neck with a bandage, not too tight, not too loose. She really patched him up quite nicely. Of course he still feels sore and tired despite the many hours of sleep, but compared to yesterday, it's nothing. He's not sure what the hell was in that shot and he doubts he'll ever know, but it was a pretty darn good remedy.  
"Apparently she does know what she's doing", he comments on that thought.  
Then Dean hears a soft knock on the door, which draws his attention immediately.  
"Dean, 're you awake?", Sam's voice asks softly from the other side.  
The eldest of the two brothers relaxes and walks over to the heavy wooden door. He was wondering where Sam was at. When he opens it he finds his little brother on the doorstep, who smiles relieved by the sight of Dean.  
"You're okay", he concludes.  
"More or less, yeah", his brother replies, stepping back to let Sam in.

He walks into the room and notices Zoë fast asleep under the warm covers of the single bed. With raised eyebrows he glares at his older brother, who's wearing nothing more than his jeans. Puzzled Dean looks back at Sam and follows his gaze. Suddenly he realizes what is going on in that head of his.  
"Dude, this is not what it looks like", Dean clears up innocent.  
Still not completely convinced Sam keeps his eye on him without an actual response.  
Dean sighs and rolls his eyes. "If you really must know, she drugged me, okay?"  
Apparently he isn't aware of how that came out, but that soon changes when his brother's jaw drops and his eyes widen. Nervously Dean gestures to stop that thought right away.  
"No, ew… Not like that, idiot", he responds disgusted.  
Sam's not sure if Dean is entirely in his right to call him an idiot. He did share the bed with her and now he should just believe that nothing happened? He's willing to take his brother's word for it, but then again; it's Dean. If he's telling the truth, it would be a big first for him.  
"Nothing happened, okay? I woke up a second ago", Dean assures.  
"Alright, alright. I believe you", Sam chuckles, but turns serious soon after.  
He observes his brother for a moment as an awkward feeling fills the room.  
"So, everything turns out fine then?"

Dean looks up and takes his time to answer. He knows the question isn't that shallow as it seems at the surface, but he doesn't feel like being the one to cut to the chase.  
"Yep. Zo's out of the deal, no hellhounds or demons on our ass anymore", the eldest states satisfied, keeping dumb.  
"No, I mean…", Sam hesitates about bringing it up or not, but decides to continue. "I mean after our fight".  
A silence follows. Dean keeps his eyes on his brother for a moment and looks away pondering. He's right, it's time to work some things out. Both have said things they didn't mean, words they regret. For a second he glances at Zoë to see if she's still asleep. Although she is, he decides to take their conversation outside anyway.  
"Let's take a walk", Dean suggests.  
"Sure you can?", Sam checks, concerned about his health.  
"My arm's busted, but my legs aren't", his brother responds rapid. "Can I borrow a shirt? My clean stuff is still in the car".  
Dean can barely finish that sentence when Sam already tosses him his duffel, which he apparently took out of the car. Dean catches it by the handles withonly his right hand in a quick reaction. He sets his bag on his side of the bed and as he rummages through it, he glances at Sam.  
"What time did you get here?", he asks.  
"Round 1 AM", Sam responds.

"I reckon you found Zoë's bike then?", Dean presumes.  
He puts on a brown chequered blouse, which is at this moment the easiest to get into considering his arm is splinted. In the meantime Sam looks up from under his eyebrows with a slight grin on his face; he heard that tone of jealousy.  
"I sure did", he confirms amused.  
Dean huffs, grabs his leather jacket from the hallstand and walks through the open door, who Sam closes behind them softly to prevent Zoë from waking up.  
"Man, why do you always get to ride the bike?", the eldest mumbles annoyed.  
Several minutes later the two brothers walk down Sauk Avenue, facing the mountain they have conquered. Dean has his arms crossed in front of his chest, the splinted arm resting on the other one. The weather has changed tremendously. No longer is the blizzard raging full throttle, but a playful wind now whirls down small snowflakes. It's still cloudy, but the sky isn't as dark and threatening as it was the previous days. Sam buries his hands in his pockets and pulls up his shoulders to keep the snow out of the back of his neck. Although Dean knows there's a somewhat difficult conversation coming up, he enjoys the fresh air and smell of frost. For a while they don't talk at all and just stroll down the street.  
"So…"  
It's Sam who gives it a first try to get a conversation going, but apparently further words fail him.  
"So…", Dean repeats. "How was Nashville?"

Sam looks aside, for a moment thought he had a somewhat cynical tone in his voice, but Dean's facial expressions don't assign to a cynical interpretation. Because of that, he decides to respond normal.  
"Dunno, I received Zoë's call minutes after I got off the bus".  
Dean looks at him weird. "The bus? Seriously?"  
"I stole a Chrysler Crossfire Roadster for God's sake, so don't go tell me that I'm a woos", Sam defends.  
"Wow, you stole a car?", Dean's jaw drops on the floor. "Like an actual…"  
"Car, yeah. Those vehicles which drive", Sam gives him a look.  
His elder brother glares at him for that remark; if one of them knows cars, it would be Dean.  
"You stole a Chrysler_ and_ a snowcat?", he wonders stunned.  
"It's not a big deal", Sam muddles.  
"It is for you, you feel guilty for running an orange light", Dean comments, but pats him on the shoulder, after which he pretends to get emotional. "I believe you have learned a very important lesson to day, Sammy".  
Sam pushes him off but grins about the little performance Dean just gave. Both laugh about it and the awkward feeling that was upon them a moment ago is gone. But that doesn't mean they don't need to talk about this. It's when Dean glances aside and notices the _St. John Mary Vianney Catholic Church_ a little further down Riddle Street, that the happy feel disappears. He halts as Sam passes him, who looks over his shoulder puzzled to see what just called his brother to a stop. Then he sees the church and comes back to reality when he reads the name of the holy building.  
"Any word of Dad yet?", he questions after a silence.

Dean checks his cell. Down in the valley he has a signal, but John didn't call and so he shakes his head. Sam distant gaze turns to the ground and they remain on their places.  
"What now?", Sam throws in eventually. "Are we gonna wait it out or are we gonna make a move?"  
Dean doesn't need long to answer that, although his response is the opposite of what Sam expects him to suggest.  
"We're gonna make a move".  
Dazed Sam looks up into his brothers green eyes. But Dean's not joking, nor being sarcastic. The youngest of the two is almost too afraid to actually presume that Dean is about to go in against his fathers words.  
"You mean, you wanna go after him?", he asks astonished.  
"I wanna find him just as much as you do, Sammy. I think he's after that demon, and I wanna back him up. We know he's alive, but Dad and I have been hunting for quite some time now, always together, and now he's off to hunt this son of a bitch alone? It just doesn't feel right", Dean explains concerned.  
"You are actually willing to ignore his order?", Sam questions.  
Dean tilts his head slightly, hesitating. "Well, he didn't actually order me not to follow him. He just left. All he ordered was that he wanted me to look after you. We can't afford to blow his cover though, so we just have to make sure he doesn't notice we're on his tail till the time is right. What could it hurt?"  
As he pronounces the words, he realizes they aren't true. It could hurt and it could hurt bad. If Dad gets distracted or if the demon finds a way to get to him through John's sons, they'll have a serious problem. But the idea of his father dying because he wasn't there to cover him is one he can't bear.

"Are you sure?", Sam brings to mind, not wanting Dean to make hasted decisions. "This is one big fish, Dean. If we go after him, it might be our last hunt".  
"Last night could have been my last", the eldest looks up to Whitehorse Mountain before he continues. "Hell, that ghost dragged me down the depths of that lake in Paragould could had been my death. Every hunt could be our last, Sam".  
Sam looks down at the ground; he's right. It's a dangerous profession they have, certainly not without risk. Of course they are well prepared and well trained, but still. One mistake could be the death of you, and after all, they're only human. Fighting off ghosts or trying to find Dad, it's dangerous, if they like it or not. So why should they ignore that, ignore the fact that their father has taken off to fight this demon that made their lives a living hell? If he trips, they need to catch him and it's the other way around too. Besides, they deserve a piece of that demon, just as much as Dad does. Sam's glad Dean finally agrees with him on that point.  
"Okay…", Sam agrees, still a bit struck. "But were do we start? C'mon, running off to Nashville was the stupidest idea ever".  
"Your words, man", Dean agrees with a huff.  
Both ponder without looking at each other, trying to think of a solution to their big question; how on earth are they going to find their dad? Snow settles down on their shoulders and in their hair, as if they are statues standing on the sidewalk. Then Dean looks up straight into his brothers eyes. Sam can see he just got an idea. The eldest of the two takes their father's journal out of his inner pocket with his unharmed hand and gives it to his little brother.  
"That Singer guy, he was a friend of Dad's, right?", Dean checks.  
"He mentioned something like that, yeah", Sam confirms.  
"Maybe he can help us out", Dean shrugs.  
Sam rubs his face and agrees with a nod. "It's a start".

"We go from there, but first I wanna grab something to eat. I'm hungry as hell", the oldest of the two states.  
Sam grins, when is Dean not hungry. He doesn't blame him this time though, he probably hasn't been able to enjoy a good meal for some time now.  
"There's a place a little further down town, we could grab a bite there", Sam suggests.  
"Fine by me, but we're taking the car", Dean decides and rubs his face. "And I need to shave, I feel like Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters".  
Without expecting Sam to question his suggestion, he turns back towards the Inn, but Sam doesn't follow. There's still something that's bothering him, that one last thing he wants his brother to know.  
"Hey Dean…"  
Dean turns around and halts, waiting for what his brother has got to say.  
"I know I was stubborn and I said some things…", Sam starts off guilty.  
"So was I", Dean interferes and continues his walk back to the Inn.  
The youngest of the two brothers smiles and looks down. It's weird, the connection they have during moments like these. One minute they are about to punch each others lights out, the next they're like best friends. He catches up with Dean and without saying another word both walk back to the _Stagecoach Inn_.


	17. Chapter 17

Pearl Jam's _Alive_ is playing over the speakers of a small diner called the _Red Top Tavern_. Zoë, who woke up a little over a half an hour ago, sits by the window and enjoys the black and white fairytale world outside. Every branch is covered with a thin layer of snow, accentuating the fine shape of nature. Most of the snow is still untouched, it's the way Zoë enjoys this weather the most. She found herself alone in her room round a quarter past twelve, but with the boys' stuff laying around, she came to the conclusion that they are still in town. It surprises her that Dean didn't pull off some lame prank while she was sleeping. After all, she did drug him, but maybe deep down he realizes it was for his own good.  
"Here ya go".  
A young waitress sets down a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and next to it a cup of coffee. Zoë licks her lips by the sight of the fabulous meal and can't wait to dig in.  
"Thanks", she replies delighted, taking her knife and fork in each hand.  
In a desperate need to still her hunger, she starts on the first decent meal in three days. It's delicious, but then again, she could eat about anything right now after all that astronaut food. With every bite she starts to feel better and eventually all the remains on the table is a clean plate. Satisfied Zoë leans back in her seat with her coffee in her hand; she so needed that. Smiling she gazes outside as reality slowly starts to sink in; she's still alive. She hasn't been shred into pieces by a bunch of wild dogs, she's not burning in hell. Strangely enough, the one person that has been able to annoy her like no other, is the person who's responsible for that. Zoë takes out her phone an looks up Dean's number. For a moment she stares at the display of her Nokia 6280, hesitating if she should call him or not. A part of her wants to, to thank him for what he did to save her, but her conscious is stopping her. She remembers the voice in her head, the demon, which tells her to...  
"_Kill him"._

"Would you just shut up?", she sighs troubled, pressing her hands on her ears.  
"I didn't say anything", someone comments.  
Startled she looks up from her empty plate and notices Sam, standing beside her table. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't even hear him come in.  
"Mind if I sit down?", he asks.  
Zoë shakes her head and Sam settles down on the bench opposite of her. He has a satisfied smile on his face and she reckons he made up with his brother. Last night, when Sam walked into her room after his journey down Whitehorse Mountain, Zoë was still working on Dean. As he slowly warmed up in a warm blanket, she gave him a quick summary of the rather exiting evening, without telling him about the injection she gave him. She found it more important to update Sam about her ability to move objects. Of course he was stunned, but he would be even more astonished if she would tell him about the yellow eyed demon. _If_, because she didn't. She just couldn't share with him that a voice in her head is commanding her to murder his brother. No idea where she got this idea, but she has a feeling he might not take it so well.  
"Can I get you anything?"  
The waitress has arrived at their table and stands by with her little notebook and a pen, ready to take their order.  
"Just coffee, please", Sam decides.  
"A hot coco for me", Zoë adds.  
The girl makes a note, puts her writing material in her pocket and picks up Zoë's clean place, then heads off. Zoë looks over to observe the young tall man sitting on the other side of the table. She can't help but to ponder about the reason Dean and he got into a fight in the first place; John's textmessage. How on earth did John know she was there? What was his intention when he sent Dean that text? Is he watching her, checking what's she's up to? Zoë is released from the disturbing thought by a mug that is set down in front of her. Sam nods thankful when their waitress also sets his coffee down and takes a careful first sip from the hot drink.

"Did you have a good night sleep?", Zo questions, actually asking if he didn't experienced any nightmares.  
"Yeah, I did actually. I needed it", he answers. "You?"  
"No flashbacks, nothing. It's weird, because the last weeks I've been having them more frequently", Zoë whispers, so that the other visitors of the diner can't hear her speak.  
"Well, that's good, right? Maybe it means there's nothing going on", Sam says naive.  
Zoë holds back the sarcastic chuckle and stares outside. Nothing going on? She doubts it, especially with that demon appearing in her dreams. For a second she considers to tell him about that nightmare, but almost instantly changes her mind again and changes the subject.  
"Where's Dean?", she wonders casually.  
"Parking the car", Sam replies and nods at the entrance of the diner.  
Zoë looks over her shoulder and sees Dean entering the place. He spots his little brother and the girl that he joined and walks over, until a large dog shoots from under the bar. With one bark he has Dean against the roof, who almost knocks a full serve plate out of the hands of one of the waitresses. The dark German Sheppard is called back by his owner and Dean apologizes to the employee while both Sam and Zo laugh out loud. Zoë's not going to tell Dean this of course, but she gave the exact same reaction when she walked in and saw that dog. Dean settles down next to his brother and throws a look at Zoë, who observes him, utterly amused. Apparently he freshed up and shaved, because his skin is smooth again and she can smell a semblance of his cologne, probably Diesel. With a smirk on her face she follows his movements and chuckles, but he's anything but pleased.  
"Shut up", he mumbles when Zoë giggles again.  
She gets a hold of herself and sips her hot chocolate to mask her enjoyment. Sam also wipes the smile off his face while Dean orders a coffee himself.  
"So, how does it feel to be a free woman again?", Sam questions curious.  
Zoë smiles and cups her hands around the mug to warm them, both the brothers can see she's delighted.  
"It feels good", she admits. "But it's so unreal. I arranged everything, my will and all. I really thought October 3rd 2005 would be my last day on earth. I guess I have to get use to the idea that I have a bit longer to live".

She pauses, knowing that what she's about to say, might come as a surprise.  
"The fact that I'm in this diner today, right now, is thanks to you two and believe it or not, I'm very grateful for that. I owe you", Zoë makes clear.  
Sam and Dean's eyes widen at the same time as if Zoë's sitting opposite of twins. With disbelief Dean glances aside to see Sam's response. Well, what do you know! Miracles do happen. Zoë Sullivan just thanked them, as in an upfront and real statement. Still amazed, Sam is the first to recover before Dean lets out a perky comment.  
"That's fine, we'll all end up badly if us hunters don't look out for each other", he responds.  
Dean smiles and looks down at his coffee cup. He knows that sentence wasn't only meant for Zoë, but for him as well. In fact, this regards their family. Sam's absolutely right, they need to look out for each other. He needs to watch out for Sam, Dad ordered him to.  
"I better get going", Zoë breaks the pleasant silence by getting up.  
"Where to?", Sam wonders.  
"Dunno", she shrugs. "I'm suppose to be dead, so the sky's the limit".  
She intends to walk off and for a moment the youngest of the Winchester boys hesitates if he should call her back, which he decides to do anyway.  
"Why don't you come with us?"  
The question surprises both Dean and Zoë. The eldest doesn't instantly object, but can't help to wonder where that question just came from. Zoë considers it for a slight second, but then she looks over at Dean. Immediately she remembers the yellow eyed demon's order to kill him. There's no way on earth she will give in to that command, but she's quite sure she'll go insane if she'd stick to them and would sees him all the time. Right now, it's better to stay away from the boys and so she shakes her head, telling them 'no'.  
"Not a good idea, Sam. I have no intention to find your father. I have bigger bastards to hunt", she claims perky.  
Dean huffs, immediately defensive, while Sam remains rather calm and looks away. Again one of those hostile replies when it comes to their father. Last time Dean let it go, but this time he just had it. What is it with this girl?

"Why do you hate him so much?", he questions mad.  
Sam looks from one to the other, slightly surprised by the jumpy response. The strange tension between the two of them isn't like he experienced with them recently, not the sarcastic way they normally use to pick on each other. Zoë seems to think though her answer before she gives it to Dean, who she stares at alert. Then she looks in the other direction and pushes off her cup of coffee.  
"Nevermind, I gotta go", she chuckles, apparently finding the reaction funny and not worth to stay for to see what comes next.  
So she leaves, leaving the brothers behind in the diner, stunned by her sudden exit. Sam huffs and looks aside at his brother.  
"Just like that?", he asks, watching her walk over to her Harley Davidson.  
"No no, she won't get away that easily", Dean states determined.  
"Dean, let it go", Sam tries when his brother intends to follow him, but his words are ignored.  
The eldest of the two gets up and hastens outside before Zoë takes off. The cold makes him shiver and he'd rather be inside with these temperatures, but he's sick of this. He's sick of the mocking and the cynical comments about his old man, especially as from his point of view his father actually did her a huge favour when he exorcised that Diligo Vesco demon.  
"Zoë!", Dean shouts.  
The owner of the Harley turns around before she gets on her bike, which is already prepared for the next journey.  
"What the hell did he do to you?", he demands to know when he catches up with her.  
"I said: never mind", she repeats and starts the bike.  
Not taking that for an answer, he bends over the front of the bike, turns the ignition and pulls out the keys. Stunned Zoë stares at Dean, stammering something unintelligible, but the Winchester brother doesn't even give her a chance to recover.  
"I've had it up to here with you. Every time when I want answers, you dance around me with that smart talk of yours. Do you really think I don't see that? If you wanna bitch about my father, that's fine, but give me one damn good reason. What the hell did he ever do to you?", he confronts mad.  
"You think this is about _me_, Dean? Let me tell you something, the only reason why I'm not talking, is _you_", she counter attacks.  
"You caring about me, oh please! I'm not buying", he laughs sarcastically.

"You care for your father so much. Do you really think I wanna spoil that?", Zoë cries out.  
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?", brought out of balance by that unexpected question of which he can't see the connection to their discussion.  
"It's not my place to tell. If you wanna know what happened, ask your papa, but not me. Don't you see Dean?", Zoë stares deep into his eyes; it's a penetrating look that would silence anyone. "What you have, a father you love and respect, that's something wonderful, something I would die for obviously. Who am I to barge in and mess that all up, huh?"  
Dean needs a moment to get a hold of the situation. His piercing green eyes read her, as if he's using them to pull an answer out of her. But she doesn't reply with a smart line, she doesn't cave in. Suddenly he's not so sure if he wants to know, a part of Dean is afraid for a confession after Zoë's warning. Balancing between decisions, he decides to say nothing until Zoë continues.  
"This is something between me and John. I know you want some questions answered, but you weren't involved and so it's not your business. That's why I don't blame it on you", she lets him know, more calmly and less violent than a moment ago.  
"What am I not to blame for, Zo? What could possibly be that bad?", he tries in a desperate attempt.  
Zoë huffs, finding that question rather ironic and looks down at the snow.  
"You don't wanna know", she replies. "Trust me".  
When she looks up again, Dean still doesn't find the answer he's looking for, but he's able to make a step into the right direction. Tears have filled her eyes, making them sparkle of sadness and although she tries to hide it with her strong appearance, Dean can see that whatever she's blaming his father for, it's serious and tough for her to handle. With a sigh he looks away and decides it's probably best to let go.  
"Okay", he mumbles and hands her back her keys.  
Without expressing her frustration to Dean, she takes the keys back in order to start her engine again. Silently she puts her helmet on her head, just in case her riding skills might fail her. Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest carefully and avoids any pressure on his left arm.  
"Make sure you get that X-rayed", Zoë jumps subjects to kill the awkwardness and nods at his harmed arm.  
He looks down at it a bit puzzled and back at her again. "You think it's broken?"  
"Dunno. I might be able to move stuff around with my mind, but I don't have X-ray vision yet", she replies perky. "It might be nothing, but you need a cast if it's some sort of fracture".

He agrees and watches how she secures her black helmet. He has to say, it's quite a pity that she wears that thing. A woman riding a Harley Davidson with her hair waving in the wind would be even more enjoyable to watch. What the hell is he saying, he's wondering off. Yet he can't help to pop the question.  
"Why do you wear that thing anyway?", he asks. "I mean, you hunt evil for a living and risk your life doing it. Wearing a helmet when you take that bike for a spin seems a bit overprotective then, hey?"  
Zoë grins, despite the tension and looks him in the eye through her helmet's sight.  
"Because it would be the joke of the century if _I_, who hunts evil for a living and risks her life while doing it, gets killed in a motorcycle accident", she answers smartly.  
Dean smiles and nods agreeing. "You've got a point there".  
The Harley rumbles satisfied when Zoë plays with the gas to warm up it's 80 cubic inch engine, after which she puts on her gloves.  
"Where're you heading?", Dean asks, pretending not to care.  
"A bit more southern, I've had it with this cold", she states. "I'll need to pull over in Arlington though. It's the only place nearby that has a garage which knows a thing or two about Harleys".  
Zoë bends over to the side to take a look at her tires. The special spikes, normally used for snowbike races instead of hell hound escapes, are worn off. It's not easy riding such a heavy vehicle on snow or ice right now, but a trip on a clean road could seriously damage the motorcycle.  
"You better, those don't look too good", Dean comments. "It's gonna coast you though, a set of new tires".  
"No problem at all, anything to make my Dave happy", she smiles and pads her precious Harley Davidson on the fuel tank in front of the saddle.  
Dean grins amused; it's funny to see a woman treat a vehicle like most men do, which most women find insane on their turn. Zoë surely makes an exception. He keeps looking down at the tires as his thoughts wonder off. He can't help it, but this whole secretive fuss about his father, he doesn't like it one bit. Apparently Zoë notices he's still concerned and decides to reply.  
"Ask him, Dean. If he has the guts, he'll tell you", she assures.

He hopes so, but despite the faith he has in the man, something deep inside tells him he might not have the courage. Zoë isn't mad at him for nothing, so why didn't he inform his son in the first place? Dean looks up into her eyes and starts a different topic to hide that he doesn't know how to respond.  
"Are you gonna look for your family?", he wonders.  
Zoë doesn't need long to think and shakes her head. She can think of a million reasons why she should, but the one argument why she shouldn't, weighs up against all the others. Dean isn't afraid to share his opinion and fires another question.  
"Why not? You've been hunting nonstop for five years now, don't you think they'd be glad to see you?"  
"And then what? Pretend that nothing happened, that everything is alright? It's impossible, Dean", Zoë replies a little frustrated, but tries to keep her voice down. "The day that demon possessed me, was the day I lost everyone and everything that was ever important to me. There's nothing in this world that could make that better".  
She swallows apprehensively. Dean can see the tears in her eyes well up again, even with her helmet on. Instantly he feels sorry for her, remembering the deep conversation they had in the cabin a few days back. He regrets he brought it up, especially when Zoë attends to leave.  
"I'm gonna hit the road", she says.  
"Good luck", Dean wishes her.  
"You too, say 'hi' to your brother for me, will ya?", she requests, straightening her back as she settles in her saddle.  
Before she leaves, he feels that he needs to say one last thing. "Zo?"  
She turns to him and waits for the follow up. Dean sighs and shoots.  
"I know you went up that mountain to end it all", Dean states, referring to the moment before midnight, when she begged him to leave her alone to die. "and I know you're tired, believe me, I do".  
Zoë looks up at the handsome young man who's standing beside her bike. She can hear by the sound of his voice that he can relate and honestly, it doesn't surprise her. Dean has been travelling the country since he was five years old. When you grow up that fast, you intend to get tired of the world. What does surprise her is that he's actually admitting it.  
"What I'm saying is; just... don't do anything stupid, okay?", he presses on her.

Stunned she glares at him, knowing what he means without actually pronouncing the words. "Do you really think I would...?"  
When she notices his confirming gaze before she has even finished the sentence, she stops and realizes he's right. With everything still going on in her life, what happened in the past and what's waiting in the future, sometimes she's not sure if life is her best option. But as every hunter, there is one thing that drives her; numbers. The numbers of people that will die if she's not there to kill whatever is planning to kill them. She throws him a comforting smile.  
"I'm a smart girl with a nice set of brains, it would be an awful waist to blow them out", she replies.  
Dean grins as she accelerates. The Harley lets out a powerful roar as she sets off and leaves Dean in the parking lot. He watches her drive down the valley into the thin fog of snow, then she's gone. He sighs, realizing that they probably won't ever meet again. The poor girl has been through a lot, but he truly hopes this is a chapter she can finish now. Talking about finished chapters, it's time for Sam and him to start off on a new one and head off their selves. If they want to find Dad, they better step to it, because Dean knows from experience that John is hard, if not impossible to track down. Then, in the silence of the mountains, he hears his ringtone as he feels his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Curious who's might call him, he takes it out and nonchalantly glares at the display, but when he reads it, his eyes freeze on the screen. Completely stunned he lets it ring a few times before he finally picks up and presses the phone against his ear. He feels his heart pounding in his throat, exited yet alert he listens to the voice on the other side.  
"Hey Dean".  
He stares in the distance, unable to say anything for about a second. Then he replies, not believing what he's hearing. After months of silence, months of nothing, there he is.  
"Dad...?"


End file.
